Sophrosyne
by kbaycolt
Summary: During the Apocalypse, God realizes that more than anything else in the entire universe, he wants his four sons and himself to be a family again. There's only one way to do this, but no one is ever happy with his decisions.
1. Chapter 1: Sulit

**Sophrosyne: A healthy state of mind, characterized by self-control, moderation, and a deep awareness in one's true self, and resulting in true happiness (We'll get there).**

**Sulit: Something worth the effort put into it.**

* * *

God himself is a procrastinator. He stays up late into the night, eyes burning from his computer screen, legs cramping from their fixed position same as anyone else. He is prideful, lordly, and arrogant. He is everything one strives to be the opposite of.

And like anyone else, he changes.

Chuck's fingers flew over the keys, typing out the last page of his manuscript. _Almost finished, almost._

The room was dark. The light from his laptop glinted in his glasses, illuminating the piles of trash and discarded bottles on the floor and table. The blinds were drawn tightly shut. His foot tapped the ground aimlessly. The end of the world loomed.

He scrolled back through his previous pages, searching for things to edit. He was no longer tracking Sam and Dean's story, but his own. It wasn't focused on himself, though. Rather, he told the story of four archangels, brothers who were closer than close, and then the fatal mistake that drove them apart. One, into Hell. One, into hiding. One, ruling Heaven. One, working in the shadow of the older.

An epic story of love, betrayal, and family.

It would be a stunning novel.

He sighed and leaned back in his seat. He took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. In his mind, he sought out his sons.

In Heaven, Raphael was sitting alone in his office, head buried in his hands. Held tightly in one fist was a single feather, golden in color. Not his, nor Michael's, or even Lucifer's. He'd found it when cleaning one day, and had not gone anywhere without it since. Gabriel's feather was the only thing left of his from before he left Heaven. He missed his younger brother terribly, though he refused to admit it. A shaky breath escaped him, but he stifled it a moment later. No room for weakness in Heaven.

Michael was in Heaven also, but he was out speaking to the garrisons, preparing them for the final battle. He'd taken the closest thing to his true vessel—Adam Milligan. But even now he could feel his grace chipping away at the faulty vessel. He'd be falling apart soon. He shook his head, then told the angel closest to him where to go. They were useless without direct command, all of the angels were. Sometimes he wished he could be like them, only required to follow orders and nothing else. It would be so much easier.

Down on Earth was Gabriel. Under the guise of Loki, he laughed and drank with his pagan friends, ignoring the subtle itch in the back of his mind that the Apocalypse was nearing. He turned his thoughts away from Michael and Lucifer, then tipped back another bottle of whiskey. Not strong enough to actually get him drunk, but he could hope. A pagan near him shoved another playfully, and then all of them were tousling and brawling in a drunk haze. Gabriel slipped from the room before someone could accidentally stab him. He needed to stretch his wings.

And lastly, Lucifer. He drifted through Hell with no true intent, scowling at demons who tried to approach him. He walked down the winding halls he knew by memory, listening to the tortured screams of damned souls. This part of Hell always disturbed him. He descended into the lowest, deepest level, where the place he hated the most resided. The Cage. It was a large, black thing, covered in runes and binding sigils that tugged and clawed at his grace. He looked up at it, watching the frost creep over the bars. He'd never go back in there again, if he had any say in it. He'd kill the entire host of Heaven and every other creature on Earth and Hell if it meant he wouldn't have to go back there. He stared at it for a few more moments, then spun on his heel and stormed away.

They were so different. Sometimes, Chuck thought the only thing they had in common was _him_. Still, they got along once upon a time.

Chuck found his chest aching with regret and longing. He shook his head. No use dwelling on the past. The Apocalypse would go as the Fates commanded.

Still.

He was fully capable of staging an intervention. He could gather the four of them and they couldn't do anything to stop him. It was a matter of _would_ he.

Maybe that answer was yes.

He looked back at his manuscript, where he'd left off.

'..._and then they were falling, two brothers entwined in a spiraling dance reminiscent of Lucifer's Fall from Heaven. The ground sealed up above them, the rumbling died down, and then the Earth was quiet once more_.'

This was the future. This was how the events would unfold, if he didn't stop things now.

He opened up a new page and started to write. The words would steer fate on the right course, the one that bring his family back together. His fingers quickened in a frenzy of typing. It was time things went his way for once.

'_God himself is a procrastinator. He stays up late into the night, eyes burning from his computer screen, legs cramping from their fixed position same as anyone else. He is prideful, lordly, and arrogant. He is everything one strives to be the opposite of_...'


	2. Chapter 2: Froward

**Froward: Habitually rebellious.**

* * *

One moment, he was popping a chocolate into his mouth in a lavish hotel, and the next, Gabriel was opening his eyes to white.

Gabriel froze. He was sitting in a curving white chair at a white table in a blinding white room, so bright he was forced to shield his eyes. He became aware of the cool temperature and the fact that his wings were now unsheathed and folded against his back. They were bright gold in color and glittered in the light, but he felt horribly vulnerable with them out, and quickly sheathed them once more.

Then he saw the other people at the table.

On the other side was Michael, sitting stiffly in his own seat with his gaze fixed straight ahead. Michael's wings—white and broad—were out and tucked into his back. His expression only betrayed a brief flicker of surprise at Gabriel's appearance, but other than that, he remained stoic. Next to Gabriel was Raphael, who seemed a bit more relaxed. His reddish-brown wings fluttered lazily behind him. He was leaning back in his seat, hands folded in his lap. He regarded Gabriel, deep brown eyes sweeping over him in that calculating way he hated. There was one other empty seat, next to Michael.

At the head of the table sat a man Gabriel didn't recognize. He had curly brown hair and knowing blue eyes, and he smiled warmly upon Gabriel's arrival.

"Wonderful of you to join us," he said.

"What the hell?" Gabriel gasped, lunging to his feet. He glanced around, seeking a quick exit. "Who are you?"

"Be respectful," Michael hissed through gritted teeth. "It's the least you can do."

Gabriel glared at him. Seconds into it and Michael is already ordering him around. "Yeah, no. Respect isn't in my vocabulary, soldier-boy."

"Please relax," the man told them. He waved a hand, and suddenly Gabriel was pushed back into his seat. "I understand the confusion. You may be disoriented for a few moments, but it will pass. In the meantime, I suggest the three of you prepare for our next guest."

"Who are you?" Gabriel repeated. Michael's incredulous stare drilled into his head, but he stubbornly refused to look at his older brother.

"Ah, yes." The man smiled a bit. "I forget that all beings are warded from me unless I exempt them." He snapped his fingers.

Then Gabriel was awash in light once more. Blue-white power filled the room, radiating outward from the man. It was comforting and warm. Familiar.

"Dad?" Gabriel breathed. "You—how did—but—"

God chuckled. "I'm back. Actually, I've been here the whole time, but that's besides the point. My sons, I—"

"Don't say you missed us," Gabriel interrupted. He knew he was being rash and dangerously defiant, but the words spilled out of him regardless. "And don't say you're sorry. You're not, we're not—none of us are sorry, so let's skip the pretense."

God winced. His aura dimmed a bit. "I'm going to apologize whether you believe me or not. It's not empty, though I know you think otherwise. I've acknowledged how broken our family is, and I came back to fix it. You do want to fix things, right?"

Gabriel hesitated. 'Fix things' was a broad term that could be interpreted many ways. For instance, God thought he was 'fixing' it when he ordered Michael to cast out Lucifer. Well that didn't fix anything, did it?

"Tough questions for another day," God continued, saving him from answering. "So, um, I suppose I better bring in the last member." He closed his eyes and pointed at the empty chair.

Lucifer appeared. He was recognizable on sight, his grace churning and twisting with black fury. He wasn't awake, though. His head lolled back on the chair and his eyes were closed. His expression lacked the usual cruelty. Gabriel stiffened in his seat. He felt nothing but terror at the sight of his brother, overwhelming the relief and love he held for Lucifer.

"I thought it would be best if we did this slowly," God explained.

Gabriel watched his brothers' reactions. Raphael didn't move or even blink; he only stared in slight disinterest. Michael, on the other hand, flinched and leaned subconsciously away from Lucifer. His hands curled into fists. His wings bristled.

Yikes. This would not turn out good.

"I want you all to understand something," God told them, lacing his fingers together. "The only way for this to work is if we _all_ try. I know how Lucifer is, and I'm going to handle him, but I want the three of you to try and stay civil, even if he doesn't. He'll catch on if you set an example."

Raphael scoffed under his breath, only loud enough for Gabriel to hear. Gabriel frowned.

"I want you to be the bigger person," God said. He looked over Michael, his blue eyes piercing and serious. "All of you."

"Yes, Father," Michael replied.

"Yes, Father," Raphael echoed, though his voice was dry and less reverent than Michael's.

After a beat, Gabriel muttered, "okay."

"Great." God rubbed his hands together, steeled himself, and snapped his fingers.

Lucifer jolted awake. His eyes snapped open, icy blue and wide with confusion and a hint of fear. As he surveyed them quickly, his expression shifted to one of blatant hostility. He crossed his arms and pinned Gabriel with a sharp glare. "What the hell is this? How did I get here?" He moved to get up.

"Please take a seat," God instructed, forcing him to sit down. "I will answer your questions in a moment—relax."

"Relax?" Lucifer gave an incredulous chuckle. "Look, buddy, I don't who you are or—" Lucifer cut himself off. God must have revealed himself to him.

There was a long stretch of silence as Lucifer took in God's true form. His face was blank, but Gabriel could sense the fury building inside of him. When he spoke next, his voice trembled with barely-contained rage.

"Of course." Lucifer lifted his chin defiantly. "This whole disappearing act thing had your stink all over it. I should've known."

"Lucifer, please—" God tried.

"Spare me. Where were you?" Lucifer's lip curled into a snarl. "I started searching for you the moment I escaped. All over the universe. _Where were you?_"

"Hidden in plain sight," God replied. "You may know me as the prophet, Chuck Shurley."

At this, Raphael finally betrayed an emotion besides boredom. Shock. "You were him? That frail, drunk of a man?"

God blinked. "Yes. I wrote out events as they occurred, hoping to preserve these stories for the future. I decided to change the ending, however."

"Oh, you just 'decided', huh?" Lucifer snapped. "Wow. Your half-assed excuses have gotten worse over the years."

"Just tell us why we're here," Gabriel interjected. Lucifer's attention latched onto him. His grace burned with anger, but at the sight of Gabriel, it stilled, and Lucifer let out a nearly imperceptible sigh of relief.

"Right." God offered a smile, but was met with scowls and narrowed eyes. "After Lucifer fell, I thought I had intervened too much. As a parent, I thought I was supposed to guide and help, and I was, except it turned into reliance. You all relied on me to fix things instead of doing it yourselves. I had to take a step back and let things unfold without me for a while." He sighed. "I now see I stepped back too far. I wasn't there when I should've been, because I thought you could all work it out. Obviously not."

"Wow," Lucifer muttered.

"So this is me, intervening once more," God continued. "The only way our family can heal is if I enforce it. I've been too lenient in the past."

"'Too lenient'?" Lucifer growled. "Yeah, you were _real_ lenient with me. Can't wait to see what your 'strict' is."

"You'll find out," God replied. "The four of you are going to stay in this pocket dimension I've created until I decide otherwise. This way, you can't just go back to the Apocalypse."

Lucifer shot to his feet, his chair scraping unpleasantly against the floor. "You're _trapping_ us here?" Lucifer cried. "You can't!"

"I can," God said calmly. "I am both the Lord and your Father. I can do whatever I wish. This is for the best, you'll all see."

"This isn't fair," Gabriel protested. "We can't get along even when we _do_ have an escape."

"I, too, have objections," Michael spoke up.

"Great, then it's even," God said cheerfully. "Now, down to specifics. This is an exact replica of Heaven, complete with the original forest and cliffs that the angels removed once I was gone."

"They got in the way," Michael defended weakly.

"It's exactly the same as it was before the other angels. And humans," God added, watching Lucifer's reaction. The Devil scowled harder. "You only have each other for company, and I'll be here most of the time also. In case any of you fear for your safety, I have warding in place so you cannot be harmed by one another."

Lucifer fumed in his seat, while Gabriel only shifted uncomfortably. This was less than ideal. Michael seemed resigned to their fate, and Raphael still hadn't spoke. Raphael plucked a crimson feather from his wing and inspected it detachedly. He met Gabriel's gaze for an instant, raised one eyebrow, then tucked the feather into his pocket.

"You'll find your offices and rooms are still very much intact," God said. "I've finished my monologue, so you are free to leave. Just this room, of course, not Heaven. You know what I mean."

Lucifer shoved his chair back and stormed out. After a moment, Gabriel followed him. Michael waited for God to dismiss him before he, too, left. Raphael rose from his seat last and headed for the door.

"Raphael," God called. "Wait a moment."

Raphael hesitated, then sat down.

"You were awfully quiet. Have anything you want to say?"

Silence. Raphael had many things to say, none of which were particularly kind. Finally, he chose to simply say, "I am not pleased with the arrangements, but my opinions change nothing for the situation, which is why I would rather withhold them."

God's eyes were sympathetic. He smiled sadly. "Just try to not fall back on bad habits. I know that makes me a hypocrite."

_I hate you_, Raphael thought. _You tore this family apart_. Outwardly, he gave a stiff nod, then strolled out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Michael was waiting for him in the hallway.

This was going to be rough.


	3. Chapter 3: Latibule

**Latibule: A hiding place; a place of safety and comfort.**

* * *

The next few days were exceptionally difficult.

Michael and Lucifer snapped at one another every chance they got, both eager to start an argument and have an excuse to rattle Heaven with their shouting. Most of the time, Lucifer came out victorious, having stooped to personal insults and jabs that ensured Michael wouldn't be seen for a couple hours.

Other times, when Michael won the argument, Lucifer would storm off, looking both infuriated and near tears. Raphael didn't comment or try to stop the arguing, knowing nothing he said would affect it anyway.

Gabriel spent his days alone, hiding out in his room or wandering the forests outside. Michael hadn't yet left the building, and Lucifer refused to go anywhere his brothers would be.

It was a dysfunctional mess.

At the end of the week, Lucifer slipped out the back door, muttering curses under his breath. He felt cooped up in this fake-heaven, with no escape from the endless torment that was Michael. If he was being truthful, he started most of the arguments; it was more interesting than the constant boredom he was subject to.

He set off walking, not really knowing nor caring where he was going. Only when he stumbled upon a large, earthy dome with gnarled tree limbs curving into a ceiling did he realize he had discovered the Garden of Eden, A.K.A the center of Heaven.

Chuckling at the coincidence, he strode up to the front door and peered through a bush. There were no guards like there used to be, and it seemed to be empty. He pushed at a tangle of roots, then jumped in surprise as it swung open to admit him. That was weird.

The Garden was as beautiful as always. A large clearing with vibrant green grass filled up the space, crowded with a variety of flowers and animals. It should've been dark, but blue bell-shaped flowers had warm lights inside their petals, casting a gentle glow over the place. Birds chattered in the trees, while squirrels and other small creatures nestled in the undergrowth. The ceiling was a huge tapestry of leafy trees winding together and stretching into the sky. In the center of the clearing was a tall, singular tree, filled with ripe red apples. The Tree of Knowledge.

On accident, his wings unsheathed and spread out behind him, excited by the sight of the Garden he once loved so much. He rubbed a hand down one black limb.

He walked carefully across the clearing, making sure to not step on any plants or animals. A raven flapped around his head and landed on his shoulder. He patted its head. When he reached the Tree of Knowledge, he extended his wings and drifted up a few feet, then took a seat in the crook of a branch. From here, he could see the whole clearing. Its soft ambiance allowed him to relax for the first time in a while.

"I knew I would be seeing you here."

Lucifer jumped. Below him, hands clasped and an amused expression on his face, was an angel. He recognized him; it was Joshua.

"What are you doing here?" Lucifer asked, hopping down from the Tree. Joshua smiled at him. "I thought this dimension was only for us."

"God wanted me to keep an eye on all you," Joshua replied. "I don't mind the task. I mostly stay here, trimming the hedges and such. I am the Keeper of the Garden, after all."

"Keeper?" Lucifer frowned, confused. "Like a guard?"

"Not quite. There are no guards here, not for a very long time. I tend to the throne of God, which appears as something different for everyone. For you, it must be the Garden of Eden."

"Huh." Lucifer reached up and plucked a single apple from the Tree. He rubbed his thumb over the shiny red surface. Remembering who he was talking to, he sheepishly went to put the apple away. "I probably shouldn't eat this—"

"No, no, it's okay," Joshua assured him, taking the apple. "The Tree grows more than enough. Whatever is taken will regrow." He handed the apple to Lucifer again. "Enjoy. It may reveal things to you."

Lucifer arched an eyebrow. He took a bite from the apple, the interior cold and refreshing. When he finished chewing, he said, "I have to ask, though, how did I get in? I thought I wasn't allowed in anymore."

"I don't control to whom the Garden permits access." Joshua shrugged, then smiled. "You must have the right potential."

"The Garden has mistaken me for someone else," Lucifer scoffed.

Joshua only gave him a knowing look. "Do not underestimate the ways of nature. She is older and wiser than us."

"Wiser, maybe, but I'm definitely older." Lucifer cracked a grin. "My birthday is void, remember? Calculation error and all that." He bit out of the apple again.

Joshua chuckled. "Yes. And all that." There was a pause; Joshua's earth-toned wings stretched out lazily, swaying in the faint breeze that swept through the Garden. Lucifer marveled over the shifting colors and deep bronze undertone of feathers that glinted in the light. All angels were uniquely pretty things, and Joshua was no exception.

Their comfortable silence was broken by a shout in the distance. Lucifer and Joshua glanced back towards the entrance, which the Garden had sealed over with roots. Another shout—it was Michael.

Lucifer groaned.

"You should probably go," Joshua advised. He held out a hand, and a spade appeared in his palm. His fingers curled around the handle. "Next time you come by, I would appreciate some help with the night lilies; they've been very uncooperative lately."

"Uh, okay."

"Wonderful." Joshua made a shooing motion. "Don't keep your brothers waiting."

Lucifer hurried back to the entrance. The Garden unfurled before him, the roots retracting into the soil to clear a path for him. He quietly thanked them. After all, Joshua was right; nature was wiser than them.

Sure enough—there was Michael, eyes narrowed and a scowl in place. Behind him, Gabriel and Raphael watched Lucifer approach.

"Where were you?" Michael demanded.

Lucifer lifted his chin. "Why do you care?"

"I am still the ruler of Heaven, and as such, I need to know what is going on at all times," Michael told him matter-of-factly. "Now, where have you been? I've been searching for an hour."

"Don't exaggerate," Lucifer replied coolly. "I was gone for less than thirty minutes."

Michael fumed. Gabriel snickered.

"If you must know, I was visiting the Garden," Lucifer continued.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. Raphael looked up from where he was inspecting the floor. Michael turned red.

"You are not allowed there," Michael hissed through gritted teeth. "You know that."

"Then why was I allowed in, hm?" Lucifer smiled. "Guess I _am_ allowed after all."

"I forbid you to go back there."

"You forbid me?" Lucifer scoffed and crossed his arms. "You can't stop me from doing anything."

"I will bar the gates to prevent you," Michael growled. "As your elder and superior I can stop you from doing anything. I will know immediately if you are at the Garden and do not presume to think I will not punish you accordingly."

Lucifer had to resist the very strong urge to pin Michael to the wall and strangle him. Instead, he met his older brother's eyes unashamedly, then twisted his lips into a grin. He knew he looked crazed and defiant, but he didn't care.

"Watch your back, Mikey," Lucifer murmured, leaning close. Michael, to his credit, didn't flinch away. "Better not find yourself alone. Gabriel and Raphael won't be here to back you up next time." With that, he spun on his heel and marched away, towards the forest.

"Your petty threats mean nothing!" Michael shouted after him. "And you better not be going back to the Garden!"

"Oh, believe me," Lucifer tossed over his shoulder, "I'm not."


	4. Chapter 4: Saudade

**Saudade: ****The nostalgic longing to be near again to someone or something that is distant; "the love that remains."**

* * *

As much as Raphael enjoyed his office in Heaven, sometimes it was too much. The space folded in on him, and he'd suddenly feel like he was unable to breath properly. This wasn't a regular occurrence, by any means, but now at least he had the ability to escape when he wanted.

There was a place deep in the forest where he went to be alone. Past the Garden of Eden, in the farthest corner of Heaven, where no one would find him.

The Aviary.

It was built for the archangels in the very beginning, right after they locked the Darkness away. It was a massive building reminiscent of the Colosseum in Rome, with tall, wide gaps in the sides for entry and a domed glass ceiling curving above. The interior was filled with all sorts of nests and perches for them, and it was once lavishly decorated with cushions and books and all sorts of knickknacks.

This was his sanctuary.

He spread his wings and launched into the air, ducking under branches and dodging trees, laughing at the rush of exhilaration that flooded him. When the Aviary rose into view in the distance, he sped up. The wind ruffled his crimson feathers. He tilted and dove, tucking in his wings and cutting it remarkably close to the sides of the archway. As soon as he was inside, his wings fanned out behind him, lifting him upwards and closer to the ceiling. He slowed to a glide. His favorite perch was near the very top, where he had optimal reading light. He landed on the platform, where the stone buckled and curved inward, creating a bowl of sorts. It was filled with pillows and soft sheets, and little flowers bloomed from cracks in the walls.

Faint light trickled through the grimy dome, casting a grey hue over the area. The whole Aviary was in ruins. Some sections were falling apart completely, while others were mostly intact. The glass ceiling was cracked down the middle and a few panels were missing, some archways were filled with rubble, and several perches had toppled to the ground. The floor was always covered in a thick field of grass, but now it was overgrown—vines had crawled up the aging stone, bursting into flowers that came in a myriad of colors. Other, smaller birds flitted in and out of the archways, building their nests in the safety of the massive building.

Raphael didn't mind their company. In fact, he vastly preferred them in comparison to Michael.

He settled into the nest. It was so large, he could spread all six of his wings and never touch the sides. He fished a book from beneath a pillow and flipped it open to the first page.

"Hey, Raph!"

Raphael flinched. He leaned over the side, only to find Lucifer standing in the wild overgrowth on the ground, waving at him. Raphael retreated back into his nest and sought out a quick exit. He couldn't leave without Lucifer seeing him. _Dammit._

A few moments later, Lucifer circled around the top of his nest and landed a few feet above him, on a thin marble ledge. He peered down at Raphael like a curious feline. "What are ya doing?"

"Nothing that is your concern," Raphael replied stiffly. He discreetly slipped his book out of sight. "Why are you here?"

"Cause last time I checked, I'm not allowed in the fucking Garden, so I came here." Lucifer's wings brushed against the top of the alcove, pitch black in color and scorched at the edges. "You have a grievance?"

"Actually—"

"Me too, buddy!" Lucifer interrupted. He grinned; Raphael scowled. "No, seriously, do you have a problem with me being here? I can leave."

Raphael hesitated. He had to weigh his options carefully: Lucifer, who was irritating, or Michael, who was authoritative and demanding? Lucifer... or Michael.

"It's not a big deal," Raphael said finally. "Just don't bother me."

"Right-O, captain." Lucifer hopped down from the ledge and floated down to the nest, sinking into the cushions with an audible sigh. "Man, this is nice. I'd forgotten."

"Shh," Raphael scolded.

"Okay, okay."

After watching Lucifer cautiously for a few moments, Raphael pulled out his book once more and began to read. He was uncomfortably aware of Lucifer's steady gaze fixed on him, but he hid his unease expertly. He'd had years to mask his emotions so Michael wouldn't suspect him.

A couple minutes passed. Raphael was surprised that Lucifer remained silent. He expected Lucifer to tease him or annoy him, but in reality, he was almost pleasant company. Almost.

"What book are you reading?" Lucifer asked finally, shattering the quiet. Raphael shot him a glare. "Sorry, I'm just curious."

Raphael sighed heavily. "If you must know, I'm reading 'The Young Elites' by Marie Lu. A human author, as you can imagine."

Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Lucifer said, "I thought you were more into the lore stuff. Like nonfiction."

"Yes, I am," Raphael agreed. "However, I do enjoy the fantasy aspect of literature. I can appreciate..." He trailed off, uncertain how to continue.

"I get that, wanting to be in a world other than our own," Lucifer said. He gave an irritating, lopsided grin that Raphael remembered with perfect clarity.

Hoping the conversation was now over, Raphael went back to his book, but before he could pick back up where he left off, Lucifer spoke again.

"Can you read out loud?"

Raphael blinked at him. "What?"

"Read out loud," Lucifer repeated. "The book. I haven't heard you read in a while and I'm kinda bored just sitting here." He clasped his hands childishly. "Please?"

"I..." Raphael stared at Lucifer. He did not know how to counter his brother or how to respond to his strange behavior. _Lucifer has been gone for a very long time,_ he reminded himself. _He is not the same as he once was. Perhaps neither am I. _"Okay." It felt wrong to deny Lucifer this simple request, somehow.

"Great!" Lucifer chirped. He rolled over onto his stomach, propping his chin up on his hands. His midnight wings fanned out behind him, waving slightly to create a gentle breeze. Raphael found he didn't mind it.

Raphael slowly opened his book. He began reading from the beginning. "'_I'm going to die tomorrow morning. That's what the Inquisitors tell me, anyway, when they visit my cell_...'"

He started off slow, but picked up the pace as he relaxed into his task, his voice rising and falling with the characters and the action. Lucifer paid rapt attention, never taking his eyes away from Raphael. It was unsettling.

"...'_But then I felt his hand close around a fistful of my hair. I shrieked, my hands grasping at the empty air. "So ill-tempered. Why can't you be more like your sister?" he murmured, shaking his head and hauling me off_...'" Raphael glanced up briefly, and saw Lucifer's eyes narrowing slightly. "What?"

"Adelina reminds me of myself," Lucifer replied after a moment. His annoying grin was gone, replaced with thoughtfulness.

"Ah." Raphael saw it too, but he didn't want to mention it for fear of upsetting Lucifer. "Shall I continue?"

"Yeah, yeah. Keep going."

And so they continued.

Raphael wasn't aware of the passing of time as he read from the book, weaving a story to life with merely his voice. It was a talent he could never bury, like everything else. Only when Lucifer yawned, his eyes fluttering with weariness, did Raphael glance up at the domed ceiling to find it was much darker than before. It was nearly nighttime. They'd spent the entire day in the Aviary.

Abruptly, Lucifer leaned over and reached for the tip of Raphael's wing. He paused just shy of touching the feathers, his icy eyes meeting Raphael's. "May I?" he asked quietly.

He was just tired, he must be. As much as Raphael wished he could pretend he didn't want this, deep down, in that vault where he'd locked his love and family and softness away, he felt a stirring of longing. _He missed this._Raphael nodded numbly.

Lucifer's fingers curled tentatively into his crimson feathers, gentle and careful. He smoothed out the feathers and straightened them, lining them out in a way Raphael couldn't do by himself. Raphael couldn't remember the last time he'd asked someone to groom his wings. As Lucifer worked farther down, his wings shuddered with happiness, the chill of Lucifer's hands pleasant on his warm skin. Raphael relaxed into Lucifer's soft tugging and combing.

Almost on impulse, Raphael reached out and touched one of Lucifer's wings, the smallest pair. Lucifer stiffened, his fingers pausing. Raphael quickly drew back, hoping he didn't ruin whatever was happening, but Lucifer caught his hand, expression unreadable.

"Sorry," Lucifer said. "I'm not used to... touch. You can keep going."

"Are you sure? I—"

"Just shut up and do it," Lucifer interrupted, smacking him lightly with one wing. A crooked grin spread over his face. "Don't be a wimp, Raph."

"Right," Raphael muttered, cheeks burning. His fingers slowly sank into Lucifer's feathers, and he was pleasantly surprised to find they had not lost their velvety softness. He clicked his tongue at the state of them. "These are a mess! What have you been doing? Rolling in the dirt, sparrow?"

Lucifer winked. "You betcha."

Raphael groaned. "You're impossible."

"I'm actually quite pleasant company," Lucifer replied indignantly.

Raphael didn't deny that.


	5. Chapter 5: Verklempt

**Verklempt: To be utterly overcome with emotion.**

* * *

Michael sank to the floor of his office, his wings curling around him in a fluffy halo of white. Unbidden, a frustrated tear slipped down his face.

Two weeks since God trapped them here. Two weeks since his life became living hell.

Lucifer took every opportunity to insult him or defy him. Raphael refused to defend him, and now the two of them were sneaking off together to who-knows-where, probably plotting to bypass God's security and attack him when Gabriel wasn't around. Gabriel hadn't been around much either, so Michael had every right to be paranoid.

Despite what many might think, Michael's office was _not_ sparsely decorated. His shelves were full of various things the other angels had made for him when they were younger. The three he cared about the most were tucked away on the highest shelf.

A bookmark. It was sleek and thin, with little blue and white strands braided—somehow—into the plastic material. Michael's favorite color used to be blue.

_"Mike, look what I made!" Raphael exclaimed, tugging at Michael's hand._

_"What is it, little one?" Michael asked. He smiled as Raphael beamed._

_"It's for you." Raphael slipped a bookmark into his hand. Michael recognized it as Raphael's favorite, the one he could never be seen without._

_"But this is yours," Michael protested, trying to give it back._

_"I want you to have it because it makes me happy," Raphael told him. "So I want you to be happy!"_

_Michael's cheeks grew warm. "Thank you, Raph. I love it."_

Michael reached out and picked up the next item. A golden horn, resized to fit on a chain.

_"Eh, I've grown out of it," Gabriel said. He held his horn in his hands, the golden color reminiscent of his own wings. "I figured you'd like a new trinket."_

_"But—"_

_Gabriel held up a finger. "Save it." He cracked a grin. "Take the gift, Mikey." At Michael's resigned sigh, Gabriel tapped the horn. Golden light enveloped it, blinding Michael briefly, and when he could see again, a tiny gold horn rested in Gabriel's palm. He looped a chain through it and slipped it over Michael's head. "There we go."_

_"You didn't have to," Michael murmured, touching the smooth surface. "It's amazing. I love it."_

_"Dunno what I'd do if ya didn't," Gabriel joked. He elbowed Michael playfully. "Gotta run. Luci wants me to oversee his garrisons for a while. He's got some business to take care of down on Earth."_

_"O-Okay."_

_"Catch you later!"_

The last one caused a pang of loneliness to hit him. It was a broken half of a white crystal, smooth on one side and jagged on the other. The very last gift he'd ever received from Lucifer. It glowed white briefly in his hands before going dark.

_"I've got one half and you've got the other," Lucifer told him. His crystal was a deep, jet black. "It'll turn cold the farther we are from each other. But when they're together..."_

_He reached over and pressed the two sides together. They fit together perfectly. Slowly, a brilliant white glow radiated outwards from them, and when the light dimmed, it revealed the two sides were now a matching silver-grey. The rocks were warm in Michael's hands._

_"They always belong together," Lucifer said softly. His expression was earnest. "Like us."_

_Michael lunged forward and wrapped Lucifer in a hug. His eyes burned. "Thank you," he choked out. "I love you, brother."_

_"And I you, big bro," Lucifer replied. The gems between them filled Michael with warmth. When Lucifer pulled away, something like regret flashed in his eyes. Michael didn't question it. "Michael, you have to promise me something."_

_"What?"_

_"No matter what happens, you'll always stand by me, right?"_

_Michael gazed at him warily. The question seemed loaded, somehow, as if something big relied on his answer. "I—"_

_"I wouldn't ask if I didn't trust your judgement," Lucifer added. "I know you'll make the right choice."_

_"About what?" Michael asked._

_Lucifer leaned close. His shirt tugged down a bit, revealing the Mark. It glowed an eerie red briefly, before flickering to black again. "How do you feel about a regime change around this place?"_

Michael released the crystal and stumbled back. This was a bad idea. He shouldn't have come in here. He needed to get out.

He bolted out the door, slamming it behind him. Racing down the hall, he was blind in his panic, almost bowling over Gabriel. The younger smacked into the wall.

"What the hell, Michael?" Gabriel shouted after him.

Michael kept running, his feet pounding on the floor and wings flapping behind him. When he burst out of the back doors, he took flight, arcing upwards and into the cloudy sky.

_Too much, too much—_

He nearly killed himself dodging a tree, the edge of his wing clipping a branch and sending him spiraling out of the air, crashing into trees and hitting every limb on the way down until he slammed into the ground with a groan. He laid there for a long while, the breath knocked from his lungs and his wings aching.

"I can't do this," Michael whispered. "Father, please. I can't—I_—_" His voice seized up, his words freezing on their way out.

When he finally regained his wits, he pushed himself into a sitting position and found himself thinking of the way Raphael looked at him as he followed Lucifer out.

_Hatred._

They—

They hated him.

They hated him.

_I deserve it._

Fine. He didn't need to be loved or even liked. He'd ruled by intimidation all these years—there was no reason he had to change now. He would find out what they were doing together. He would remind Raphael of his place in Heaven. He would remind Lucifer that Michael _deserved _respect.

He'd get rid of anything that made him weak.

Starting with those knickknacks.

* * *

Gabriel picked through his feathers, scowling. Since Michael had pushed past him without an apology, his wings were ruffled from their neat state before. He wished he could be back on Earth, where no one could _see_ his wings, much less ruffle his feathers.

_But,_ if he was being _honest._.. he missed his home. Heaven was still endlessly beautiful—something that even he could appreciate.

The responsibility made it much less desirable. The pressure to be a role model, to be someone respectable, it was too much sometimes. He missed the days he could just knock back a drink and have playful fights with other pagans. When he was the Trickster, Loki, God of Mischief. Where he could be himself and have no obligations to anyone else.

Those were the good times.

Until, of course, the fateful day he almost caused Baldr's death, and the Norse pagans banished him from Asgard. That was a major setback, but he didn't allow that to damper his fun. He skipped along into India for a while, where he first met Kali, and experienced romantic love for the first time. What a thrill that was.

But Kali left him. She claimed he was too complicated, too unpredictable. He'd be a liar if he said he didn't still love her.

Egypt was exciting, as was Brazil, but he eventually settled down somewhere in the far north. Scotland and other English countries were the perfect places to kick back and relax for a few centuries.

Then, Dean Winchester was born. He felt the ripple from where he was flying over Africa, and nearly tumbled out of the sky in his shock. God's plan was finally unfolding. Michael's True Vessel had come into being.

He kept a close eye on the Winchester family while Dean was growing up, making sure nothing happened and that no one bothered them. He knew if everything came to fruition the way it was meant to, humans would be eradicated either way and one of his brothers would rule the world. He didn't know who to place his bets on.

Keeping out of sight was difficult. He could constantly feel Lucifer's presence, drifting over the house as he waited expectantly for his Vessel to be born. Michael's angels were stationed in various places—the constant chatter over angel radio was incessant and really freaking annoying.

When Sam Winchester was born, Gabriel felt the Heavens shudder. The Cage rattled with Lucifer's excitement and the demons began preparations immediately.

Sam was six months old when a yellow-eyed demon crept into his room and turned him into an abomination. Gabriel almost intervened, but stopped moments before revealing himself. This was the way it had to be. Sam would grow up to be stronger and smarter than a normal human, his dormant abilities awoken by the blood. It was what God decreed.

For the next couple decades, Gabriel dropped by the Winchesters occasionally, making sure no one was altering God's plan. They hunted down and killed the yellow-eyed demon. Dean sold his soul. Castiel saved him from Hell. The angels prepared for war.

Lucifer tore free of his Cage with a vengeance. The fury and rising tension boiled over into Earth as he shredded past his seals and swept into the world with raw exhilaration. Gabriel was a bit ashamed to admit he hid for the first few weeks, terrified of Lucifer sensing him immediately and hunting him down. Thankfully, Lucifer was preoccupied with his preparations for the Apocalypse.

Gabriel did not intend for the Winchesters to discover his identity. He was trying to toy with them, vent a little while not drawing too much attention to himself. When they trapped him in a ring of holy oil, however, and revealed they knew who he was, he was angry. He was furious, in fact, that things weren't going his way. That they had the audacity to trap him and demand he stop the Apocalypse.

_"You're just gonna—you're just gonna leave me here forever?" Gabriel called after them, eyebrows furrowed. He held the genuine concern that the Winchesters would abandon him in this ring of holy fire until the effects whittled down his grace to nearly nothing. Only then could he escape on his own._

_Dean glanced back at him by the doors. "No. We're not. Cause we don't screw with people the way you do. And for the record..." His voice turned harsh. "...this isn't about some prizefight between your brothers, or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family!"_

_Gabriel flinched. He felt like he was frozen in place, staring, as Dean pulled the fire alarm and water sprayed down from the ceiling. He looked up, then back at Dean, eyes narrowed._

_"Don't say I never did anything for you!" Dean called, then he was gone._

_Castiel lingered by the door. Something like regret flickered in his eyes. Gabriel's lips tugged into a deep scowl._

_As soon as the fire was extinguished, Gabriel spread his wings and departed._

And as much as Gabriel hated to admit it, Dean was right. Gabriel had always been afraid of his older brothers, afraid they would leave him if he disagreed. This belief was only further solidified when Lucifer stood up to Michael, and what did he receive for his efforts? A Cage in Hell.

So instead of risking his fate, Gabriel fled. He drowned himself in booze and pagan revelry, desperately wishing he could stop feeling, stop thinking, stop everything, _stop, stop stop—_

Now, tensions in this pocket-Heaven were at an all time high, and Gabriel had no escape. He could never be free of Michael and Lucifer. His brothers were different than they used to be. Gabriel didn't really know what he expected, but Michael's quick rage and Raphael coldness shocked him. Michael was always a fighter, but now, he seemed to jump eagerly into arguments with Lucifer, like he was eager to prove he could win.

Once upon a time, Raphael was a healer. He was gentle and curious and always wanted to learn more. He never hesitated to help a younger angel in need, or to soothe Michael and Lucifer after their frequent fights. He tried so badly to keep their family together. He protected Gabriel when things got out of hand.

But in the end, Raphael was too scared to intervene during the final battle. So was Gabriel. That was one of the few things they had in common. Fear.

Gabriel was done being afraid. He was done being a coward, being a pushover. He would stand up to Michael, to Lucifer, to Raphael, and even God.

It's time to stop running.


	6. Chapter 6: Paroxysm

**Paroxysm: A sudden outburst of emotion.**

* * *

Lucifer woke up that morning feeling good. Of course, happiness never lasts for him.

A knock sounded at his door. Lucifer groaned and sat up. "What?"

"I_t's me_," Raphael said, voice muffled by the wood. "_Father is back_."

Letting out an audible sigh, Lucifer opened the door. "What for?"

"As if I know," Raphael replied with a shrug. "Better hurry before Michael gets impatient."

"Ugh." Lucifer scanned his wings briefly. The feathers were crooked and ruffled from sleep, causing him to wince at their state. "I can't go out looking like this."

"Fine." Raphael stepped forward, closing the door with his heel.

He took one of Lucifer's wings in his hands and combed through it quickly, making him look presentable. Lucifer tensed at first, but relaxed when he realized what Raphael was doing. They had gotten much more comfortable with one another in the past week, going from antagonistic banter to playful teasing and finally, gentle jokes and grooming. Lucifer didn't mind this new arrangement in the slightest.

"There. Acceptable, you vain idiot?" Raphael teased, poking his shoulder.

Lucifer spun in a circle, trying to check his wings, but eventually gave Raphael a nod of approval. "Yes, acceptable. I'd expect no less from you, Mister Alphabetical."

"I organize my books alphabetically _one time_ and this is what I get?"

"Yeah, no, I'm never letting you live that down. You're a nerd, Raph."

Raphael spluttered and protested, but Lucifer had already vanished down the hallway with a short bark of laughter.

Their shared humor faded by the time they reached the conference room. Raphael steeled himself, wiping the emotion from his face and stuffing it into his vault once more. Lucifer threw open the door with a bang and strolled in like he owned the place. Raphael resisted the urge to chuckle.

"Good morning, you two," God greeted. He offered them a tentative smile. Raphael inclined his head respectfully.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. He hopped into a chair beside Michael, then swung his legs up on the table. He laced his fingers together and grinned cheekily. Michael scowled.

"So what do you want us for?" Gabriel asked. Oddly, he was the only one with his wings sheathed.

"Ah, right," God said. "I just want to check up on everyone, make sure things are going okay. Maybe you guys can tell me what you've been up to lately."

Silence. Lucifer and Raphael exchanged a subtle look. Michael fixed his gaze somewhere on the wall. Gabriel met God's eyes shamelessly.

"I've done some exploring," Gabriel answered finally. "Talked to Joshua a bit. Spent a lot of time out of the main buildings."

God nodded. "Good, good. What about you, Michael?"

"Nothing of interest," Michael muttered.

Pressing his lips together, God waited for Michael to say more, but it seemed he was finished talking. God turned to Lucifer. "And you, son?"

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know."

God sighed. "Lucifer, please-"

"Since Michael banned me from the Garden, I haven't done much," Lucifer snapped. He winked at Raphael, who rolled his eyes.

"Michael banned you?" God turned his disapproving gaze on his eldest. "Michael, you understand we are trying to be civil, right? Why did you do that?"

Michael sank lower into his seat. "To my knowledge, he wasn't allowed in," he mumbled, his voice growing softer as God's eyes hardened.

"You don't make those decisions," God told him sternly. "_I_ do. Unless Lucifer is harming someone, you do not bar him from anything Heaven has to offer. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Michael murmured.

God sighed. He rubbed his temples briefly. "What of you, Raphael? Keeping busy well enough?"

"Yes," Raphael replied. "Enough."

Lucifer snickered softly.

"At least this is better than what I expected," God muttered, allowing himself a slight smile. "As long as you're not fighting, I won't push you into anything. We're all trying."

"Yes, Father," they chorused, all but Michael, who replaced 'Father' with 'sir'.

There were a few moments of quiet. Lucifer cleared his throat and raised a finger.

"I'd like to say what we're all thinking," he started, the beginnings of a mischievous grin creeping over his face. "Mikey, you're being a grump this morning. _I'm_ supposed to be the sulky one. What's up with stealing my role, bro?"

"I'm not stealing anything," Michael said. "And I am not a 'grump'."

"You're totally a grump," Lucifer said.

"Unfortunately, I agree," Gabriel added. "You're moping."

"I am not moping," Michael snapped. His wings bristled. "And you have no right to criticize me."

"Let's relax, please," God tried, attempting to ease the tension. Lucifer still wore an irritating grin, and Gabriel seemed to be jumping on the 'Antagonize Michael' train.

"None of you have _any_ right to criticize me," Michael continued, his voice rising in pitch with his anger. "Especially you, Lucifer. You and Raphael have been sneaking off doing things alone in the woods and I haven't questioned you. I haven't scrutinized your every move." At that, Lucifer scoffed in disbelief. "I don't conspire with Gabriel against my brothers like you-"

"We have not been 'conspiring'," Raphael interjected suddenly. He narrowed his eyes coldly at Michael. "You make assumptions too early, brother."

"Where have you been, then?" Michael demanded. "You do not keep secrets from me."

Raphael shoved his chair back and leaped to his feet. Gabriel and Michael flinched in surprise. "You are not entitled to the knowledge of my whereabouts," he hissed. His coppery wings lifted slightly, making him look larger than he was. "You do _not_ control me. I do not answer to you. It would do you good, _Michael,_ to remember that I, too, am an archangel, and you _will_ acknowledge that I deserve respect. I am not here for you to push around and order about." He jabbed his finger in a shell-shocked Michael's direction. "You have treated me like a simple soldier for _far_ too long. I may not be equal in power, but I am still your brother, and I deserve to be treated as such."

"Raphael, we're trying to keep the peace," God said, preventing Michael from retorting. "Please refrain from tearing us apart further."

"'Tearing us apart'?" Raphael growled, whirling on their father. "You're one to talk. Don't forget, _you_ tore this family apart. Not Lucifer, not Michael, _you_. You talk big about fixing this and all that bullshit, but you can't. You can't fix this."

"_You're not letting me!"_ God replied sharply. "What do you want me to _do_, Raphael?"

"I want you to take your mistakes," Raphael snarled, his lips curving into an ugly sneer, "and _choke_ on them. And when you're drowning in regret and there's only emptiness inside, you'll finally understand." He fixed his sharp glare on Michael. "That goes for you too." With that, he spun on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door so hard behind him the entire room shook.

Barely a few seconds had gone by before Michael spat, "that ungrateful bitch wouldn't know respect if he was drowning in it."

To everyone's surprise, it was not a fuming Gabriel who jumped to Raphael's aid.

Lucifer lunged out of his seat and slammed into Michael, pinning him roughly against the wall. His icy eyes glittered like morning frost. "Raphael is right," Lucifer hissed. "And if anyone is an ungrateful bitch, it's _you_. If you don't watch your mouth next time, I'll do more than just threaten you." He shoved Michael away, lip curled in disgust, then left to where Raphael had gone.

Everything was silent. Gabriel's expression was a solemn one. Michael straightened out his robes, rubbing his shoulder where Lucifer had touched him. A frosty handprint smoked in the warm air. He brushed himself off one more time, bid them a stiff goodbye, and exited the room.

God buried his face in his hands. When he looked back up, his eyes were desperate. "Gabriel, what do I _do?"_

Gabriel pressed his lips together. "Raphael is right," he said, echoing Lucifer. "You can't fix everything, no matter how much you want to. Not every mistake is deserving of forgiveness."

"How do I make this right?" God whispered.

"I can't tell you how to fix this," Gabriel admitted. He pushed himself to his feet and headed for the door. "When you break an object, it's easier. You just glue the pieces together. But when you break a person?" Gabriel shook his head sadly. "You broke him, Father. And you broke me."

Then the door was closed and Gabriel was gone.


	7. Chapter 7: Nepenthe

**Nepenthe: Something that distracts your mind from grief or troubles.**

* * *

Raphael couldn't think, couldn't breathe, he could only soar away from the building where the people he hated the most were in. His wings beat against the wind, struggling to keep him aloft, but he kept going, despite the first throngs of exhaustion hitting him. His outburst had left him drained and jittery—even now, his hands shook violently at his sides.

"Raph!" someone shouted behind him.

He sped up.

At the sound of furious wing beats growing nearer, Raphael banked into a dive, tucking in his wings to increase his speed. Right before he smacked into the ground, his wings flared out, sending him spiraling sharply upwards. Evasive maneuvers that Gabriel had taught him.

Suddenly, rough hands grabbed his wings, causing him to come to an unsteady halt. The hands released him a moment later.

Lucifer hovered a few feet away, panting with effort. His wings buffeted Raphael with strong gusts of wind. "You can't run off like that, man," Lucifer told him.

"Leave me alone," Raphael growled. He turned to fly off.

"Don't!" Lucifer cried. He grasped Raphael by the wrists, his grip firm but gentle. "Don't, please. You're right, Raphael. You're right about everything you said in there."

Raphael paused. He still couldn't breathe properly. Something was clawing at him inside his ribcage, tearing free of his vault where he locked up all the things that Michael didn't tolerate. His head spun.

"You're still mad, and I get that," Lucifer continued. "But you need to let it out. Bottling this up will only make it worse."

"It hurts," Raphael gasped, tugging weakly against Lucifer's grip.

"Where?" Lucifer asked.

Raphael freed one of his hands and held it over his chest.

"You gotta let it go," Lucifer urged. "It's probably been a while since you let Michael hear it, huh? You deserve to be able to vent your feelings. You're not emotionless."

Taking in a shuddering breath, Raphael felt some of the haze clear from his mind. "I-I can't, Lucifer, I-"

"You know what makes me feel better when I'm angry?" Lucifer asked, the corner of his lips turning up into a half-smile. "Smiting some demons, punching something, you know, stuff like that." He let go of Raphael and drifted back, giving Raphael his space. "Wanna race?"

"What—?"

"Catch me!" And then Lucifer was gone, midnight wings blotting out great swaths of baby blue sky.

Raphael hesitated only a moment longer before racing after him. Lucifer was _ridiculously_ fast, years in Hell unable to erase his natural grace in the air. He whirled through the sky with a whoop of joy, eyes closed as he navigated the place by memory alone. Raphael pushed himself to catch up.

Lucifer shot upwards—Raphael copied him. He climbed farther and farther into the sky, where even Raphael was beginning to suffer from altitude sickness. Finally, he twisted sideways and plummeted, streaking past Raphael in a blur of black. It took Raphael a moment to realize that _Lucifer wasn't even trying._ He was toying with Raphael, forcing him to forget about his anger in exchange for focusing on flying. It was an ingenious tactic.

"You've gotten slow!" Lucifer called back to him. They were both racing at top speed towards a cliff, where the black rock dropped off abruptly to a frothing grey sea. Lucifer's wings fanned out behind him, catching the wind, pushing him over the cliff and down. He dipped toward the sea, water spraying up in his wake and dousing Raphael in salty liquid.

They continued like that for a while, with Lucifer keeping Raphael constantly on edge with his impossible sharp moves and Raphael desperately trying to catch up. Slowly, the buzz in his ears faded, and the shakiness of his hands vanished. Raphael found himself feeling stronger than before. He began to increase his speed, less blindly angry now and more competitive.

Lucifer, seeing his sudden change, sped up also, finally using the full extent of his power. He ducked into the cover of the forest, cutting close to branches and narrowly avoiding the obstacles ahead. Raphael tucked in his wings and spiraled past two interwoven trees, clipping his outermost feathers on the bark.

"Good one!" Lucifer shouted encouragingly. Raphael allowed himself a smile.

In the distance, the Aviary rose into view. Lucifer and Raphael were flying side-by-side now. Lucifer grinned at him. When they reached the Aviary, they split apart, both ducking into separate archways. With a burst of extra speed, Lucifer arced upwards and landed in the nest before Raphael could.

"Ha! I win!" Lucifer crowed. "Every time, little bro."

"Every time," Raphael lamented.

"What a workout," Lucifer remarked. He stretched, his wings echoing the motion. "I'm ready for some good-fashioned literature, huh?"

"Are you trying to say you want me to read now?" Raphael asked, amused. He watched Lucifer flop down into the cushions with an exaggerated groan.

"Yeah," Lucifer said.

"Don't you want me to..." Raphael swallowed. "...tell you why I was angry?"

"You can save it for another time," Lucifer assured him. "I'm not gonna push you. The last thing I ever wanted was somebody asking why I was upset after I calmed down. Distractions are good, though."

"O-Okay." Raphael greatly appreciated the gesture, but he was never good with words like Lucifer was. He picked up The Young Elites and began reading from where they left off. He was dimly aware of Lucifer's cool finger sinking into his feathers, soothing his rattled nerves. He relaxed into his older brother's touch. "... _The Reaper. The Messenger. A society full of double names and hidden meanings_..."

* * *

Gabriel hadn't been alone for more than half an hour before Michael came after him. He was back in his office, the one he'd always hated because it made him feel uncomfortable. Just its existence pressured him to be someone he wasn't.

He never kept trinkets or stuff, he was just too flighty to hang onto things like that. Despite this, he _did_ have a box with some junk he couldn't get rid of. He was rifling through it when someone knocked on his door.

"What?" he called out.

The door eased open. Michael peered inside, his expression unreadable. "May I speak to you?"

"Fine, but I'm getting some things out of the way first." Gabriel leaned forward. "I'm not going to defend you for Raphael or Lucifer. I'm not going to comfort you because Raphael is right. I'm not going to let you play the victim because you're not. Do you understand?"

Michael clenched his jaw. "Yes," he forced out.

"Good. Now, what did you want to talk about?"

"I... I may have phrased it wrong, about them sneaking off," Michael admitted. "I felt... I felt left out. I thought it wasn't fair that they could fix their relationship so easily and I can't. I hoped they would include me."

"You really screwed that up," Gabriel scoffed. He felt a twinge of pity, but he shook it off.

"Can you follow them next time?" Michael asked. "Just see what they're doing. Make sure they aren't doing anything we should be concerned about."

"There's no 'we' in this," Gabriel corrected. "But I will."

Michael exhaled. "Thank you."

Holding up a finger, Gabriel said, "don't thank me. I'm not doing this for you. Only because I'm curious too."

Michael flinched, eyes cast downward. Gabriel frowned a bit but didn't question it. After a moment, Michael retreated back to the door, head bowed.

"Goodbye, brother," Michael said finally.

"Bye."

Michael closed the door. Sighing, Gabriel rubbed his eyes. He must have been seeing things. Michael was the least of them to be insecure. Gabriel locked up his box and shoved it in a drawer. No better time than the present to spy on his brothers.

He stepped into the hallway to find it empty. Michael was gone.

Once he was outside, he tried to figure out where they could've gone. Not the Garden, and any of the battlefields were out of the question. Suddenly, in the distance, a flash of black drew his attention. He was so small on the horizon he was merely a speck of color, but the speed and control were unmistakable.

Lucifer.

A moment later, a blur of copper raced down after him. Raphael.

Gabriel unsheathed his golden wings and took off in their direction. He wouldn't reveal himself, not yet, but he still found it difficult to just keep up. He may be the Messenger, but Lucifer would always be faster than him. The only person who could ever come close to matching him was Michael.

He followed them from a safe distance, watching them dodge and weave through the forest. When he realized their destination, a jolt of shock hit him.

The Aviary.

He didn't remember the last time he'd been inside that place. The rush of memories threatened to overwhelm him. He shook himself and slowed his pace, gliding down toward an archway that they had vanished into. He landed inside but didn't go after them. Instead, he glanced around the place, soaking in the familiar surroundings. It was overgrown and flooded with green, but it added to the aesthetic rather than taking away.

Raphael and Lucifer were talking in one of the higher perches. Soon, Raphael's even tone was the only one to be heard. He seemed to be telling a story. Gabriel strained his ears to listen.

"... _Floating gondolas glide between them, fireflies among giants. A bell chimes somewhere in the distance. Off at the horizon, the misty outlines of a chain of islets appear before the flatness of the Sun Sea_," Raphael reads. "_And up in the sky—_

_I gasp in delight as an enormous creature resembling an ocean ray glides lazily across the city's harbor, its fleshy wings smooth and translucent in the light_—"

Gabriel's foot slipped.

He lost his balance and tumbled forward, wings flashing out behind him to catch his fall. The bright golden color reflected sunspots on the walls, drawing the others' attention.

"Gabriel?" Lucifer called. "What are you doing here?"

Gabriel cursed under his breath. "Nothing, I was just leaving," he replied, spinning around midair to flee the scene.

"Wait, stay!" Lucifer insisted. "Come here."

Hesitating, Gabriel hovered by his exit. At Lucifer's impatient expression, he flew up to them and landed near the edge, unsure about approaching. Lucifer beckoned him closer. Gabriel folded his wings and hid them from view, feeling vulnerable under Raphael's cold gaze.

"What are you two doing?" Gabriel asked tentatively.

"Taking a well-deserved break," Lucifer replied, leaning back into the mounds of pillows. "I'm sure you're getting tired of Michael too."

"Well..." Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck. "He wanted me to come here and see what you were doing. I have no intention of telling him anything, though," he added quickly, at Raphael's scowl. "I can leave if you want."

"Nah, stay," Lucifer said. He turned to Raphael. "Keep going, Raph."

Reluctantly, Raphael returned to the book. "... _translucent in the light, its tail stretched out behind it in a long line. Someone—a tiny speck nearly lost from sight—rides on its back. The creature lets out a haunting note that echoes across the city_..."

Gabriel found himself transfixed by Raphael's storytelling. It was as if the words were forming a picture before his very eyes, a clear image brought to life by merely his voice. He sank to the ground and settled in to listen.

"... Stop. Stop. STOP. I will destroy everything in order to make it stop. I will destroy all of you. _I grit my teeth as my fury swirls around me, seething and relentless, yearning to burst free. Through the whirlwind, I hear my father's harsh whisper._

I know who you really are. Who will ever want you, Adelina?

_My fury heightens. _Everyone. They will cower at my feet, and I will make them bleed."

Lucifer inhaled sharply. Gabriel looked up at him to find him clenching his jaw, an odd expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" Raphael asked.

"Just reminds me of something," Lucifer muttered, looking away. "You can keep going."

Gabriel knew what it reminded him of. The Darkness. The Mark. His Fall. If it was Gabriel, he wouldn't want to talk about it either.

Raphael picked up again, although hesitantly. "_Then the shrieking fades. My father's voice vanishes, leaving memories of it trembling in the air._.."

Though the story was still as clear as before, Gabriel couldn't stop thinking about the parallels between Lucifer and the book's protagonist. Lucifer's hands stayed curled into fists, and the troubled gleam in his eyes didn't fade for a while. Gabriel wondered briefly what having the Mark was like, but he didn't ask. It was too uncomfortable of a question.

Only when the sun began to set did Raphael pause. He slipped a bookmark into it and rose to his feet.

"I'm beat," Lucifer commented, stretching. "After that workout earlier, I can sleep forever."

"That's illogical," Raphael pointed out.

"Nerd."

"Hey!"

Gabriel found himself chuckling at their lighthearted bantering. He didn't know when the change had occurred, but they were much friendlier than before. It was remarkable how politely distant they acted around Michael and God.

"You liking the book so far?" Lucifer asked him suddenly. Gabriel coughed.

"Uh, yeah. I don't really have a backstory, but yeah."

"I'll fill you in." Lucifer then launched into a long-winded synopsis of the book, much to Raphael's amusement.

Gabriel was listening, but he was mostly watching Raphael. His eyes softened and his expression shifted to something like endearment, seeing Lucifer animatedly act out the book. Gabriel found it bizarre.

"Got it?" Lucifer asked when he'd finished.

"Yeah, thanks," Gabriel replied. He chuckled. "We should probably get back before Michael comes looking for us."

"I don't want him finding this place," Raphael muttered unhappily. Lucifer patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry. He won't—not if I can help it."


	8. Chapter 8: Mauerbauertraurigkeit

**Mauerbauertraurigkeit: The inexplicable and irrational urge to push people away; the deadening of social taste buds**.

* * *

Michael stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a roiling grey ocean. He was cold, but he couldn't bring himself to go inside. He wanted to feel it, this numbing chill. The salty breeze stung his skin; he made no move to ease the pain.

The others were gone, off doing things without Michael, as usual. _I deserve it,_ he supposed. Gabriel had joined them. He hadn't expected that.

Raphael's words rang in his ears.

_It would do you good, **Michael****,** to remember that I, too, am an archangel, and you will acknowledge that I deserve respect._

But Michael _remembered_. He remembered the halo of lightning wreathing around Raphael's head, his fingertips crackling with power and his eyes glowing steely grey. He remembered the air charged with electricity, Raphael's mouth set in a firm line. Michael respected him but was never intimidated. Raphael had never scared him.

Until a few days ago. Michael had never, in his entire life, _ever _seen Raphael that angry. He hadn't seen Raphael looking anything but faintly amused or sarcastic in many years.

To see him enraged, furious, without ever lifting a finger against him or losing control of his grace, that was terrifying. Michael was even more shocked to see him shout at their Father, to hurl those vicious words—_I __want you to take your mistakes and **choke** on them_—and to see Father just accept it.

Father never allowed Michael to be angry at him. He'd never spoken a word against Father, and yet he was stricter around Michael than any of the others. Even when Lucifer shouted and destroyed things in his frustration, Father only admonished him gently. Father always looked after the others more than Michael. Michael doesn't need comfort, Michael doesn't want it, Michael wants to be left alone, always.

In the absence of Father, Lucifer took up the burden. He saw Michael for who he really was, not who Father wanted him to be. He looked after Michael like _he_ was the older brother, and Michael didn't mind that in the slightest. If it was anyone else, he would be upset at being treated as a fledgling, but Lucifer was different. Lucifer loved him unconditionally. Father just wanted things from him.

Michael let out a long sigh. Even that wasn't true. Lucifer wanted Michael to take his side, manipulating him with his love to convince Michael to rebel. Michael's duty to Heaven was stronger than his love for Lucifer, because his duty was born out of love for his Father.

If there was anyone who he loved more than Lucifer, however misplaced, it was their Father.

He would never forget how Lucifer refused to let Michael bear the Mark. And what did he get for that sacrifice?

Michael cast him into Hell.

Shuddering, Michael rubbed his bare arms, trying to ease his chill. He deserved any maltreatment from his brothers. He had hurt them all enough._ It's time to atone for your mistakes._

_Or as Raphael put it,_ Michael mused, _time to choke on them_.

* * *

Raphael came to appreciate Gabriel's company on their daily outings. It was strange at first, and a bit uncomfortable, but he soon realized that Gabriel believed him and Gabriel took his side against Michael. It was comforting to know that two of his brothers backed him up.

He would read to them for long hours, interrupted by good-natured commentary from Gabriel and Lucifer. It got to the level where they would groom his wings while listening, and although Lucifer tried to do it discreetly, Raphael saw him pocket a few feathers.

His steady anger faded to an undercurrent of frustration. His brothers let him vent, something Michael never tolerated. He could never be anything but agreeable about Michael.

Sometimes, he would brush past Michael in the hallway, and the archangel would only lower his eyes and quicken his gait. Raphael felt a glimmer of satisfaction that Michael was nervous to be in the same area as him. The pleasure at seeing the flash of anxiety in Michael's eyes was overwhelming. Raphael had to remind himself several times that this wasn't any better than before. They were still broken.

And it was still God's fault.

No matter. 2/4 family members was good enough for now.

There were still things he wanted to know and people he wanted to confront, but he was happy with what he currently had. He could question Gabriel about the pagans later, shout at Michael in the future.

For now, he was focusing on prying open his vault and freeing the person he'd locked away so long ago.

He didn't want to be Raphael, the Reeducator and Michael's second-in-command.

He wanted to be Raphael, the Healer.

* * *

"Stupid doors, stupid feathers caught in the stupid doors," Lucifer was muttering as Chuck walked around the corner. He was tugging the corner of his wing from where it was stuck in his door. He wrenched the limb free with a grunt, midnight feathers dusting the floor. He scooped them up.

"Son," Chuck spoke.

Lucifer didn't look up. "The name's Lucifer. What do you want?"

"I'd like to ask you something," Chuck said. He could see Lucifer's grace churning with barely-contained anger. "In private, please."

Straightening, Lucifer stuffed a handful of feathers into his pocket. "Fine."

Chuck beckoned him to follow, then set off down the hallway. He tried not to think about what snide comments Lucifer might make upon hearing his inquiry. He swung open a door and stepped aside. Lucifer walked by without thanking him.

"What do you want, old man?" Lucifer snapped, crossing his arms. His suspicion in his ice blue eyes was prominent.

"I've been thinking," Chuck began. He swallowed and laced his fingers together. "What am I doing wrong?"

Obviously, Lucifer hadn't expected that. His eyes widened, and a confused expression crossed his face before settling into relaxed defiance. "A lot. I can list it for you if you want."

"No, I mean-" Chuck sighed. "Did I make a mistake, putting the four of you back together? I thought this was the best way to help, but after what Raphael said, I feel like maybe I made the wrong decision. Michael is unhappy, as am I, and I wanted this to be good for everyone, not just the three of you. I'm glad you're getting along, I am, but I don't know how to extend that to Michael."

"Who cares about Michael?" Lucifer scoffed. At Chuck's pleading look, he relented, "look, I don't know. If an all-knowing being doesn't have an answer, who says I will? I'm just a mere archangel, after all."

"Lucifer, please."

"Raphael was right," Lucifer told him. Chuck closed his mouth, surprised. "Some things don't deserve forgiveness. You can't force any of us to forgive you or Michael. What you did to us is on you, and it's inexcusable."

Chuck held his son's gaze for a long while but broke the contact at those words. He breathed out slowly. "What do I do, then? Other than choke on my mistakes and drown in regret as Raphael kindly advised."

"You let us stew," Lucifer suggested. He smiled crookedly. "Don't push anything. Let me work through things with Raph and Gabe, and when they're ready to talk, I'll let ya know." Rubbing his hands together, Lucifer sauntered over to the door. "By the way, this advice doesn't change anything. I don't forgive you. I hate you, in fact, but I'm not going to let that get in the way of fixing what you broke." He arched an eyebrow. "I've made the mistake of letting my opinions hurt my family. Never again. I'm done acting like you."

"But-"

"Pro-tip: learn from your mistakes. Don't forget about them, or else history repeats itself. Take World War I, for instance." Halfway out the door, he added, "and maybe pick up some parenting books. You're a shitty dad." And then he was gone, the faint echo of a chuckle ringing out behind him.

Chuck sighed. As difficult as Lucifer made things, his words were rooted in truth. After a pause, Chuck snapped his fingers. On the table appeared a stack of parenting books. He picked up the first one.

"_No-Drama Discipline: The Whole-Brain Way to Calm the Chaos and Nurture Your Child's Developing Mind_ ".

Well, better start somewhere.

He settled down to read.


	9. Chapter 9: Zemblanity

**Zemblanity: The inevitable discovery of something that which we would rather not know.**

* * *

"Are we really that close to the end?" Gabriel asked, leaning over Raphael's shoulder to peer at the book.

"Yes," Raphael replied irritably, inching away. "Personal space, _please_."

"Grump," Gabriel huffed.

Lucifer patted his arm sympathetically. "Happens to the best of us."

Raphael groaned. "It is at times like these I wonder what I see in you two." At Gabriel's mock-wounded expression, his wing smacked into the younger, bowling him over. Gabriel yelped. "Don't try to guilt trip me. Your begging eyes have never worked on me."

"Ah, well, remember that one time?" Lucifer corrected. He grinned. "Gabriel convinced you to go down to Earth with him. You only went because you felt bad the rest of us were ignoring him."

"Shut up."

"In reality, you knew very well Gabriel asked you first," Lucifer continued, smirking. "You just couldn't resist those puppy-dog eyes."

Raphael wanted to smack him too. Instead, he just hid his face with the book to disguise a smile. A soft whine from Gabriel made him peek over the top of the cover. Gabriel was pouting, wings curling around him pitifully. Lucifer gave him a look. Releasing a loud sigh, Raphael resignedly marked his page.

"Stop it, you fledgling," he muttered. Gabriel sprang to his feet, a bright smile fixed on his face. Raphael liked this Gabriel, the smiling, joking Gabriel who ensnared everyone with his wide, amber eyes. "Do you want to finish the book today?"

"Nah, let's do something else," Gabriel said. "I'm bored. Are you bored?"

"No," Raphael replied.

"Nope!" Lucifer piped up. He leaned back casually, closing his eyes. "I'm never bored."

"Is that so?" Raphael questioned.

"Yep. I've had many, _many_ years to find new ways to entertain myself. Nothing makes you immune to boredom like endless torture."

The mood tensed. Raphael looked away, and Gabriel bit his lip. Lucifer seemed unbothered, however, with a lazy smirk still in place. He didn't seem to notice the effect of his words on his brothers.

"Lucifer..." Gabriel began hesitantly, casting a brief glance at Raphael. "You've never... told us, about... about the Cage."

Lucifer's eyes fluttered open, pinning Gabriel with an icy stare. There was no animosity in his expression. Only distant sadness. "You never asked."

"Will you tell us?" Raphael asked, taking the initiative. He tried to soften his tone. "We won't push you if you don't want to."

"Hm." Lucifer pushed himself upright. His wings folded behind him, making him look small and vulnerable. His shoulders hunched. "It was dark, mostly. And cold. People associate Hell with fire, but it's really the opposite. I was alone, cold, and in the dark. It reminded me of..." He grimaced. "... of _Her_."

Gabriel sucked in a breath.

"The Cage wasn't suffocating, like Her," Lucifer continued. "Just empty. It was quiet, too. I couldn't hear the constant chatter of the other angels. It was strange to be so alone in my own mind." His jaw tightened. "But it wasn't designed to simply hold me. If that was the case, I would have found a way to escape beforehand. No, rather, the Cage was meant to keep me preoccupied. If I was distracted, I couldn't try to escape. God knew what he was doing when he created it."

"What do you mean?" Raphael asked, frowning. He didn't want to believe what Lucifer was insinuating. That his Father, their Creator, could...

"The Cage was built to torture," Lucifer answered bitterly. "Although, it wasn't always necessary with Her involved. She supplied me with enough darkness to keep me distracted for eons. Only when my sight finally cleared did I have the sense to remove Her. I gave Her to Cain. He made the mistake of dying with that Mark on his arm and paid the ultimate price."

He rubbed his shoulder absently.

"The Cage liked to display my worst memories on loop, like a shitty VHS player. I relived my wretched mistakes and I felt every excruciating second of my greatest failures, over and over and over until I _broke_." His smile resembled shattered glass. "I broke and so I rebuilt myself from the bottom, fixing up everything that led me to ruin, starting with anything She left behind."

Lucifer raised his tortured gaze to his brothers. "And for what? For loving too much and giving too little? For exercising my free will? Tell me, brothers, does the punishment fit the crime?"

"You rebelled," Raphael said. "You hurt and you killed and you deceived us all. Perhaps the Cage was harsher than necessary, but you still couldn't keep your mouth shut." At Lucifer's icy look, he lowered his head. "We agreed with you. Most of us, in fact. We believed in everything you did."

"Then why did you let me Fall?" Lucifer hissed. "_Why _did you allow me to punished?"

"We respected Father's wishes," Gabriel replied softly. "The bowing was symbolic. It meant nothing and was simply a gesture, but you couldn't bear to overcome your pride for even a moment. You had to make things worse."

"I couldn't bear to watch him replace us," Lucifer corrected. His wings bristled. "You already didn't need me as much. The other angels were too scared to come anywhere near us, much less me. And then God creates these weaklings, these broken beings to replace me because _I wasn't good enough anymore_." He let out a long sigh, then shook his head. "That's what the Mark told me, anyway. She could twist anything into anything and make you believe it to be fact. For some time, she even deluded me into thinking you still loved me."

"We do, Lucifer," Gabriel said earnestly, inching forward. "We love you no matter your sins."

"No, you don't love me." Lucifer smiled, but it was broken. "You love Luciel."

Raphael inhaled sharply. It had been so long since he'd last heard that name. Their cherished Light Bringer of God.

"Luciel is dead, Gabriel," Lucifer muttered. "He's been dead for centuries. He started dying the moment he accepted a Mark he didn't deserve. A Mark that would have gone to his older brother. He died a little when he grew older, and his brothers didn't need him as much. He died a little when Michael became obsessed with his duties to God, he died a little when Raphael drew away from him, he died a little when he couldn't be what Gabriel needed his big brother to be."

"You were always enough," Gabriel whispered, but Lucifer carried on as if he didn't hear him.

"He died a little when he was first cast down to Earth. Alone, rejected, and scorned by his more obedient brothers, he finally caved to that little voice..." Lucifer tugged down his shirt collar to reveal the faded ghost of a Mark on his skin. "... that came with this little Mark."

"No," Raphael breathed. He'd already heard this story. He knew what would happen, but that didn't reduce the shock of hearing it from Lucifer.

"She had a plan," Lucifer said. "It was simple. 'All you have to do,' She said, 'is convince those humans to eat a little fruit. That's it. Then your family will see, they'll love you again.' Luciel died a little when he first listened to Her." He fixed his gaze somewhere in the distance, expression carefully blank. "I don't remember what happened in the Garden. It was just dark. And when I opened my eyes, there was an angel at my feet. Luciel died a little seeing the blood everywhere. And he was begging me, crying out that it wasn't his fault, he didn't know. He pleaded with me to save him. But I didn't hear him. I didn't feel anything at all."

"You're talking about Gadreel," Gabriel gasped.

Lucifer flinched. He took in a shuddering breath. "Luciel was clinging to a thread when Michael found him. When Michael shouted for healers and grabbed him by the shoulders, demanding to know why he'd done what he did. Luciel nearly died when his vision went dark, and he awoke to find himself on a battlefield, surrounded by dead angels. Dead siblings. Michael was screaming at him, calling him a monster, evil, over and over and Luciel just laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed at Michael's pain because he deserved it, didn't he? Everyone deserved their pain. He knew he deserved his.

"Luciel came close when Gabriel ran to them, desperate to piece together his broken family. Michael shouted for him to stay back. Gabriel didn't listen, and when I could see clearly again, he was on the ground, sobbing, as Luciel held a blade to his throat. Luciel finally died when he saw the betrayal in Gabriel's eyes." At this, Lucifer paused briefly, finally meeting Raphael's eyes. "Luciel was dead when he landed in the Cage, in the dark and the cold. He didn't even have Her; She left him alone to drown in the misery he wrought for Her."

Raphael released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. This was too much. He couldn't bear to listen anymore.

"Vulnerable and abandoned, Luciel buried himself in hate and betrayal," Lucifer continued softly. "Cut off from the Heavenly Host, he filled the void with a thirst for vengeance. He took a page out of Her book and twisted the situation, turning his brothers' desperate words into venom-filled daggers meant to hurt him. They were always out to hurt him. And finally, to curse their family, their _love_, he took the name Lucifer, because he could no longer truthfully say he was 'of God' anymore, right?"

His next words were terribly bitter. "So then, I ask you, what was the point in Luciel's death if you can still love his killer?"

"You are one and the same," Gabriel insisted. He moved to Lucifer's side but didn't touch the archangel. "Luciel is not dead. I believe he's hiding, too scared to come out for fear of being hurt again. So he created a mask to protect him."

"You would know all about masks," Lucifer muttered, "Trickster."

"Yeah," Gabriel agreed. "The Trickster, Loki, whatever you want to call him. He was my mask. But I'm done hiding, done running. If Luciel's ready to come back, we'll be here for him."

"If he's still here," Lucifer whispered. "Then why can't I feel him?"

"Hiding, remember?" Raphael joined in. He moved into their tightening circle, wings brushing against his brothers. Lucifer was trembling when Raphael touched his shoulder.

"What if he doesn't know how to come back?" Lucifer asked quietly. His voice shook.

"Then we'll show him how," Gabriel assured him. "And we won't give up on him. Not again. We've made enough mistakes in the past."

Lucifer closed his eyes, bowing his head. His wings spread over them like a canopy of night, creating a little pocket of darkness that they huddled under, graces stretching out and soothing one another. Connected in the way they were always meant to be. Warmth bloomed in Raphael's chest. By Father, he'd so dearly _missed_ this.

"We're all learning," Raphael murmured, his voice startling in the silence they'd fallen under. "My brothers."

Another day, they'd still have to face their Father and Michael. But for now, they stayed together, the Morningstar and the Messenger and the Healer, shadowed by wings as dark as Hell.

* * *

As Chuck walked around the corner, he caught the tail-end of another Michael/Lucifer fight. He slowed his pace, wondering what they were discussing.

Lucifer's voice was dark. "You know what, Michael? Everyone says _I'm_ the one throwing a big temper tantrum, but _you're_ the only child I see around here. I grew up a long time ago. Time for you to do the same."

"At least I know when to obey," Michael hissed back, but his argument was weak. "You couldn't just leave things be. You had to be _right_."

"Yeah," Lucifer agreed. "I was in a shitty place when I tricked Adam and Eve. And yeah, everything that happened was definitely a result of my actions. But at least I have an explanation for why I acted how I did. Where's your reasoning? Your duties to Dad? Ha. Don't pretend, Mikey." The nickname, once used as a term of endearment, was now full of scorn. "You were always jealous of me. You were biting at the chance to kick me out of the house so you could be the favorite, right?"

Michael was silent.

"And Dad left because he was disappointed in us," Lucifer told Michael harshly. "Disappointed mostly in me, I'm sure, but you're not free of guilt. He was probably disappointed that, even after you screwed up in that fight with the Darkness, you still couldn't get over your flaws. At least I acknowledge what's wrong with me."

"Come on, Luci," someone else said. Probably Gabriel. "He's not worth it."

"Damn right," Raphael muttered.

A moment later, the trio rounded the corner and nearly collided with Chuck. Lucifer took a step back to avoid hitting him.

"Hey, Pops," Lucifer greeted. He still seemed a bit miffed, but at least he'd stopped spitting insults every time he saw Chuck. "You read some parenting books like I said? Get some good advice?"

Chuck blinked, a confused at the sudden change in demeanor. "Uh, yeah. Some decent tips."

"Cool." Lucifer cracked a grin, elbowed Gabriel, and then took off down the hallway while Gabriel let out an indignant yelp. Raphael rolled his eyes at Chuck, as if to say '_see what I have to deal with?'_and followed after them.

Chuck chuckled. He couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. Why couldn't Michael put down his pride and try to get along?

_But,_ he supposed, _that would make me a hypocrite. _

Around the corner, a door slammed shut. Chuck peeked into the hallway, and when he found Michael was gone, he continued on his way. When he passed by Michael's office, a quiet noise inside drew his attention. He paused and pressed his ear against the door.

Muffled gasping and rustling reached him. A soft sob echoed within before abruptly going silent.

Hesitantly, dreading what he would discover inside, Chuck pushed open the door.

Curled up on the bed, six white wings wrapped around him like a cocoon while he cried quietly, was Michael. His hands were clamped tightly over his mouth, restricting any sound from escaping. His wings shuddered as his shoulders heaved in silence.

Chuck's heart broke. He leaned inside, watching as Michael closed his eyes and shrank in on himself.

Michael sucked in a ragged gasp of air, then furiously scrubbed at his eyes, muttering, "this is—this, I'm—stupid, irrational—" His voice cracked. His next words were said with such conviction that Chuck was suddenly sure Michael had adopted it as a mantra. "Soldiers don't cry," he told himself.

"Michael," Chuck whispered.

Flinching violently, Michael's posture immediately straightened, and his wings folded behind him in a sign of submission. He lifted his chin. "Yes, sir?"

"No, Michael, no," Chuck said, crossing the room in two quick steps. He took a seat on the bed. "Michael, I am not 'sir'. I am first and foremost a father." Now that he was closer, he could see that Michael was trembling all over, his hands curled into fists. His breathing came rapid and shallow, and the look in his eyes was comparable to cornered prey. "Oh, my son. I..."

Michael let out a whimper and seemed to collapse in on himself, burying his face in his hands to hide his tears. His wings relaxed and curved over him, like a shield. Seized with guilt, Chuck reached over and wrapped his arms around his eldest.

That was the last straw. Michael broke down into anguished sobs and fell into Chuck's embrace, letting down his guard for the first time since Chuck left. After a long moment of crying, Michael drew back, wiping his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Michael muttered. "You didn't—didn't have to see—to see me—"

"Michael, you are not a burden to me," Chuck told him firmly. "I don't feel bothered by anything you may need of me. Please don't ever feel like you are bothering me." He squeezed Michael's shoulder. "Now, son, what's wrong?"

"They hate me," Michael whispered. "I deserve it. I've been horrible to them, to all of them. I made Raphael make decisions he wasn't ready for. I made Gabriel leave. I didn't try to help Lucifer. I've always been blind, blind in my loyalty because I was never _good enough_ for you."

"Oh, Michael," Chuck started, but Michael barreled on.

"I couldn't follow one simple order and it got three of my brothers killed," Michael hissed. A tear slipped down his face. "I _never_ disobeyed again. But you never trusted me again either. And I was so desperate to please you, I cast my baby brother into Hell." His breathing hitched. "I _hurt_ him. I _hurt_ him so badly. And I don't know how to get better. I've made myself into a shell, and I don't know where the real Michael is. I'm just an imposter, hurting _everyone_ I come into contact with."

Chuck hated to think about it, but he knew, deep down, the real reason Michael thought so lowly of himself was because of _him_. He gave Michael such a hard time, and his child didn't deserve that. He _had_ to remedy this.

"Why?" Michael gasped, his voice so broken that Chuck winced. "Why did you love Lucifer more? Why did I _always _disappoint you? You're omniscient. You know why I was never good enough. Was it because I used my free will wrong? _What did I do wrong?"_

"Nothing," Chuck assured him. Michael shook his head, disbelieving. "Michael, you never disappointed me. You were always more than enough. I treated you wrongly. This is _my_ fault, son. Not yours. It was _never_ yours. You never deserved the pressure I put on you." He pulled his son close, his divine heart shattering into a million pieces when Michael flinched as if preparing to be punished. "You were the first archangel—my little prince. My son. Michael, I _love_ you."

Michael dissolved into sobs again, crying out everything he'd pent up for billions of years. He pressed himself into his father's chest and cried. "You've never said that before," Michael choked out, his voice muffled in Chuck's shirt.

Chuck stiffened. He did, right? He must have, there was no way he had gone all this time without telling his son he loved him... He searched his lengthy memories, every inch of his divinity so that there was no way he could miss it. A memory of him telling Michael, completely unprompted, "I love you."

He was dismayed to find he could not recall anything of the sort.

Gripping Michael tighter, willing his son to feel every ounce of affection he felt, Chuck repeated, "I love you. Son, I love you so much. I've only ever loved you. I've never been disappointed in you, Michael. You have never been less than your brothers. I love all of you. I love you. I love you."

He kept saying it, kept repeating the words he should have been saying Michael's whole life, desperately trying to guide back his firstborn son who'd lost his way.

"_I love you_."

"... I love you too, Father."


	10. Chapter 10: Anemoia - Part 1

**Anemoia: Nostalgia for a time you've never known; the wistfulness of never truly knowing how events may have unfolded.**

* * *

Another week passed. Lucifer grew more and more comfortable in the fake-Heaven, spending his days flying and reading with Gabriel and Raphael. Sometimes the trio would head down to the Garden of Eden and help Joshua with some gardening. By this, he meant _he_ helped with gardening, with Gabriel lacking a green thumb and Raphael refusing to get his hands dirty. Joshua only chuckled at their playful banter and turned back to his flowers.

It was difficult, of course. As all things were. Lucifer had to deal with the pitying looks his brothers cast his way, and how they held their tongues before speaking to make sure they didn't mention the Cage or the Darkness. He didn't care about it all that much (he'd long since desensitized himself to the whole thing) and wished they'd stop treating him like he was fragile.

Occasionally, he grew curious about the happenings of Earth. He wondered what the Winchesters were up to now that the Apocalypse was officially on hold. He would always want Sam Winchester as his vessel, but his initial desperation had faded somewhat. He preferred his brothers to those humans anyway. Well. 2/3 brothers.

Michael was an entirely different subject. He had stopped the pathetic attempts at starting arguments, and would now slink off whenever Lucifer entered the room. Despite the twinge of sympathy Lucifer felt, he couldn't help but feel a bit satisfied. Let Michael suffer as he had.

He loved his brother, of course. He always would. But with Michael also came uncomfortable memories of his lance tip digging into Lucifer's chest, the gleam of triumph as he hissed to Lucifer, "God will love _me_ now."

And Lucifer, swept away by the poison of the Mark, growled back, "he's never loved you. You're just a fucking _soldier_." He'd almost missed the flash of hurt on Michael's face before he plummeted into Hell.

A giggle from Gabriel brought his attention back to the present. Gabriel was hanging upside-down from a tree branch, golden wings dangling under him, the very tips scraping the ground they were so large. Raphael was seated beside him—upright, of course—watching Gabriel with amusement in his eyes.

"Do angels get vertigo?" Gabriel asked, swinging back and forth.

Raphael rolled his eyes. "No."

"Really? Cause I think I'm getting vertigo."

"Then stop hanging upside down, you fledgling."

"Mm. Nope."

Groaning in exasperation, Raphael grabbed Gabriel's legs and shoved him off the tree. Gabriel went tumbling to the ground in a heap of golden feathers.

"You're mean," Gabriel complained. He pushed himself to his feet, pouting.

"I feel like you should have made a Lion King joke," Lucifer spoke up. He was sitting a few feet above their branch, nestled into the crook of the tree. He kicked up his legs and wove his hands beneath his head. "Also, you had it coming."

"Bullied!" Gabriel exclaimed, toppling backward to the ground again. "Bullied, I say. By my own flesh and blood!"

"Technically, we're not flesh and blood," Raphael said.

"He's got a point," Lucifer called down.

"My original claim still stands!" Gabriel cried. "You guys like to gang up on me."

"Oh, you're just so easy to pick on," Lucifer said, closing his eyes.

A heavy sigh and a defiant _harrumph_ later, Gabriel took flight and landed on Lucifer's branch. He grabbed Raphael and hauled him up too, then the three of them were seated on the same limb. Lucifer stubbornly kept his eyes closed.

"Wakey, wakey~" Gabriel sang, poking Lucifer's wing.

With his foot, Lucifer kicked Gabriel off the branch. Both Lucifer and Raphael peered down to see Gabriel on the ground again, staring up at them with an annoyed pout. Lucifer snickered. Raphael covered his mouth to hide a smile.

"Bullies," Gabriel repeated.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light, and then Joshua stood before them. He smiled kindly down at Gabriel and offered him a hand.

"See?" Gabriel called up to them. "There are nice people in this world, and then there's you two!"

Joshua chuckled. "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Indeed," Raphael said. "And how are you, Joshua?"

"Ah, splendid as always," Joshua replied. He nodded at Lucifer. "Hello."

"Hey," Lucifer greeted.

Joshua laced his fingers together and smiled. "I'd almost forgotten. Our father wishes to speak with you."

"All of us?" Gabriel asked. Joshua inclined his head. "Huh. Wonder what he wants."

"Something unpleasant, although necessary," Joshua told them, his earthy wings waving slightly in the breeze. "I assume he won't like to be kept waiting."

"Of course not," Raphael sighed. He slid off the branch and landed effortlessly on his feet, causing Gabriel to mutter, "showoff." Lucifer followed suit.

Joshua's eyes were endlessly kind. "I've missed you all. Although I am younger than you, I've always considered myself more mature. No offense intended."

"None taken," they chimed together.

Lucifer tossed an arm around Joshua's shoulder and grinned. "You've always been a father-figure type. Or maybe grandfather-figure. I don't know. You're just... wise, I guess. And we never wised up, right guys?"

"Your grammar is abhorrent," Raphael told him. "But I understand your point. Us archangels, we see things little picture. It's always about us, about each other. But you've always taken an objective, big picture stance. I admire that."

"Your eloquence has always been a defining trait," Joshua said. He touched Raphael's shoulder briefly, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with his smile, then stepped away from them. "I'll be in my garden if anyone needs me. Farewell."

"Bye!" Lucifer and Gabriel called, at the same time Raphael said, "farewell."

Then Joshua vanished in another white flash.

Raphael let out another sigh. "Let's go, shall we?"

Together, they leaped into the air and took off, with Lucifer pulling ahead easily and the others straining themselves to catch up. Lucifer glanced back at them. He knew that if Gabriel really wanted to, he could beat Lucifer, but he didn't. Lucifer appreciated the stroking of his ego.

Suddenly, Lucifer folded his wings midair, sending him into an abrupt dive. He tilted forward to increase his speed, the ground racing towards him dizzyingly—

His wings shot open, catching the air and shoving him upwards into a spiraling arc. As he spun into the sky, he picked a blade of grass off of his shirt. Close one. Below, Gabriel and Raphael had stopped and were now hovering and watching him, both looking some degree of exasperated.

"Luci!" Gabriel shouted. "Come down, you egotistical moron!"

"I only hear 'jealousy'!" Lucifer replied, but he angled himself into a steep glide anyway. He blew past them, clipping Raphael with his wings and laughing as he soared towards the building. When he reached the doors, he slowed in preparation to land.

Gabriel slammed into him from behind, sending both of them sprawling in the grass with identical yelps of pain. Lucifer shook his head and shoved Gabriel.

"Get off me," Lucifer groaned, sitting up. "You're not a fledgling anymore. _Shit_, that hurt."

"Don't blaspheme," Gabriel teased. He jumped to his feet and out of Lucifer's reach.

"You two—" Raphael cut himself off, rubbed his temples, then said, "let's go inside before anyone else gets injured." He reached out and helped Lucifer to his feet. "But Gabriel's right. You _are_ an egotistical moron."

"And you're a nerd."

"Take that back, or I—"

"Nerd~"

Lucifer darted into the building, Raphael at his heels. He skidded to a stop in front of the conference room doors, stepping out of Raphael's way and sending the younger stumbling past him with his momentum. Lucifer cracked a grin, then pushed open the doors.

God and Michael were both inside, each sitting and standing, respectively. Michael avoided his gaze.

"Hey, Pops," Gabriel chirped, hopping into a chair.

"Hello, my sons," God said. He smiled a bit, but it was dimmer than usual. "We'll be leaving shortly, so no need to take a seat."

"Where are we going?" Lucifer asked. Raphael closed the doors behind them.

"I actually debated a lot about whether I should do this or not," God said. He rose to his feet, pushing in his chair with one foot. "But I decided it was necessary."

"What?" Gabriel said.

God pressed his hands together, his smile fading. "I'm going to show you two alternate courses of history. In each, the battle between Michael and Lucifer happens, but there is a different outcome for each. I want you to understand that my intervention was absolutely necessary."

Lucifer, Raphael, and Gabriel exchanged a look. Gabriel said, "actually, I think we've got it."

"Not yet." God snapped his fingers, and the world dissolved.

Then the five of them were standing in a wide cemetery. The sky was a neat, orderly blue, and the day held all the warmth of summer. A slight breeze whisked past them.

"Stull Cemetery," Lucifer remarked. "The chosen battlefield. Never got a chance to see it in person, but I gotta say, it doesn't really live up to the hype."

"It is quite..." Michael trailed off. It was the first time he had spoken, and he seemed to be regretting it. "... underwhelming."

"We're here so I can give you background information," God explained. He glanced around the cemetery, his eyes skipping over the many names and moving right on. "The universes I'm going to show you are very different from our own. In this one, Lucifer was cast out much earlier, and Michael grew bitter in his absence. He rules Heaven with the utmost authority, having demoted Raphael many years ago. Gabriel ran away and was promptly hunted down by the entire Holy Host, causing him to hide in pocket realities and dimensions to escape the search."

Gabriel whistled lowly. "Yikes. What a raging dumpster fire."

"Yes," God agreed. "Also, John Winchester and Mary Campbell never fell in love, and as such, Sam and Dean were never born. There are no True Vessels in this universe." He nodded a bit, acknowledging their shocked expressions. "The Lucifer of this universe gave away the Mark as soon as he was locked away. He has been under its influence for less time, and he is much more willing to bargain. Michael is not so forgiving."

"What are you going to show us, then?" Gabriel asked. "How terrible we can become? How absolutely horrible our lives could've been?"

"A lesson," God said patiently. "That this could have been so, so much worse. We are lucky." He clapped his hands, and suddenly they were standing one of Heaven's many corridors, with angels bustling around and murmuring quietly to one another.

Gabriel jumped when one angel passed right through him. He rubbed his arms, looking unsettled.

"They can't see, hear, or feel you," God assured them. "But these are all true events. First, I want to show you a conversation."

As the hallways cleared a bit, the angels becoming more sparse, someone peeked around the corner. Tousled brown hair, glittering amber eyes, and way more nervous than anyone else.

It was Gabriel...

... but it wasn't.

This Gabriel looked anxious and jittery, lowering his head whenever angels walked by and trembling from head to toe. He crept around the corner, eyes sweeping the length of the hallway, then headed to the nearest door and knocked gently.

"That's my office," Raphael whispered.

Alternate Gabriel waited, tense and stiff, for several long moments. Then, the door swung open, and Alternate Raphael stepped into view. He took one look at Gabriel, his eyes widening comically before Gabriel lunged into the office and closed the door behind them. God waved his hand and transported the group inside.

"Gabri-!" Alternate Raphael started, but Gabriel clapped a hand over his mouth and shushed him.

"Don't say a word," Alternate Gabriel hissed. "I _cannot_ be seen here."

A long, charged second passed before Raphael nodded slightly. Gabriel removed his hand.

"Where have you been?" Raphael whispered. His aloof mask crumbled as Gabriel offered a weak smile. "Have you not seen what it's like around here? Gabriel, this is worse than _Hell_."

"I know," Gabriel said. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner. I've been in hiding, ya know. Witness protection."

"I'm sorry," Raphael breathed. "Michael made me, I couldn't- I-"

"I know," Gabriel repeated. "Just listen carefully, and if this goes well, I'll explain everything later." He pulled out a chair and sat down. "I hold the firm belief that this prizefight doesn't have to happen."

"What?"

"Just listen." Gabriel held up a finger. "Lucifer isn't the same as how he was, sure. Neither is Michael. But I think Lucifer can be reasoned with."

"How do you know?" Raphael asked.

Gabriel cracked a wry grin. "I talked to him."

"_What?"_

"Shh," Gabriel said. "But yeah. He was different, Raph, but he actually told me he doesn't want this to happen. He wants Michael to walk away."

"Michael will never," Raphael replied. "You haven't seen it. He's insane, brother. I wanted him to call off the angels hunting for you, and he revoked my title and rank. I hold no authority over any garrisons. He's established himself as the highest command." Gabriel started to say something, but Raphael interrupted him. "He has gone _mad._ There is no reasoning with a mad archangel."

"We can't persuade him," Gabriel agreed. "But what about the person closest to him? The one who loved him the most?"

"You think Lucifer can convince him? That is a loose wager and a foolish one."

"Yeah, it's risky, but what's the harm in trying?" Gabriel leaned forward eagerly. "I have a plan." He explained to Raphael how everything would work. How Lucifer would get the upper hand, and Raphael would then jump in to help persuade Michael. Gabriel would stay on the sidelines, watching and helping Raphael.

"I will not put myself at direct risk," Raphael asserted.

"Then I'll make an illusion. It'll look and act like you, but it won't be you. You can stay safe."

Although he looked reluctant, and his body language screamed distrust, he reached out and shook Gabriel's hand.

God snapped his fingers, and they were back at the cemetery. He set a comforting hand on Michael's shoulder, who looked stricken.

"Am I truly that terrible here?" Michael whispered, forehead creasing.

"Eh, I'm sure they're exaggerating," Lucifer said, lip quirking upwards. Michael still looked away.

"This world's Michael and Lucifer will be here any moment." God cast his gaze to the sky, where storm clouds were brewing on the horizon. "I encourage you, especially Michael and Lucifer, to remember that this is not you. This is an alternate version of events. Do not get caught up in what transpires."

A pause. A long moment of silence.

Then, a sudden drop in temperature alerted them to the presence of Alternate Lucifer.

He appeared a few feet away, looking, for all intents and purposes, identical to their Lucifer. He had Nick as a vessel, but he wore a thick leather jacket and black jeans. The attire made him look intimidating, but the expression on his face was anything but. He actually looked a bit sad.

Glancing at an invisible watch, he commented, "late. As usual. Thank you for prolonging the inevitable, Mikey." He let out a loud sigh. "Any day now."

_Crack!_

Fire exploded from the treeline, and amid the rippling heat, a figure arose. Alternate Michael stood ramrod straight, his eyes fixed on Lucifer with startling intensity. The fire flickered and smoked out. Michael looked ready for war—he donned a trailing white cape, and in his hands, he held a lance that was nearly his height. The Lance of Michael was a sleek, shiny white weapon, capped with a deadly sharp tip.

Michael stared at Lucifer. The pair faced one another in silence for several seconds until Lucifer began to clap slowly, mockingly.

"Aw, you got all decked out for the occasion?" Lucifer taunted, smirking. "You didn't need to do all that for little ol' me." He tipped his head to the side. "You been having fun up in Heaven all these years? Ruling with an iron fist?"

"I do what I must," Michael said finally. His voice rang out over the clearing, authoritative and sharp.

"Ah."

"Are you ready?" Michael inquired, gripping his lance.

"When will I ever be?"

"Do not play games with me."

"I mean it," Lucifer said. His tone turned serious. "I will never be ready for this, not completely. Are you?"

"Always." Michael raised his chin. "I will not hesitate to finish the task before me."

"You mean murdering me?" Lucifer smiled, but it was cold. "I'm just a task, huh?"

"You twist my words."

"I twist nothing," Lucifer defended.

They were slowly circling each other now, both tense and on edge. Lucifer stopped in his tracks, folding his hands behind him.

"Will you never abandon this pointless endeavor?" Lucifer asked. "Will you leave it be, brother? Let all this go, I implore you. Walk off the chessboard."

Michael laughed. A short, derisive sound. "And rebel, as you did? I am not like you, Lucifer. I am a good son."

"Do you think Dad would have wanted this, huh? For us to destroy each other? Michael, you must admit this seems more like a test than destiny." Lucifer took a step back as Michael began to advance. He held up his hands as if to ward Michael off. "Brother, please."

"You are not my brother. You are a monster. And I am going to kill you."

Lucifer visibly swallowed. His eyes darkened, and a sleek silver blade appeared in his hands. "If that is the way it must be, then... I'd like to see you try."

"I don't want to see this," Gabriel muttered.

"You must," God said grimly.

The two alternate archangels clashed together, the very ground rattling with their fight. Michael fought with vicious determination, while Lucifer was mostly on defense, blocking his brother's blows and stepping back to avoid his lance. Abruptly, Lucifer's wings flashed into view and he leaped into the air, soaring away from Michael.

"Do not be a coward!" Michael shouted. He unsheathed his own wings and took off after Lucifer.

The four of them also followed the battle, hovering close enough to see and hear what was going on. The sky flashed with lightning. Fires sparked and quickly grew to raging wildfires, reducing whole cities to rubble. Throughout it all, Michael and Lucifer attacked each other mercilessly.

Finally, Lucifer had Michael pinned, his blade pressed against the other's throat. Michael glared up at him, but he was too weak to fight back. Both were panting heavily, and Lucifer's blade trembled in his hands.

"The difference—" Lucifer said, "—between you and me—" he gasped for breath, his wings drooping, "—is that I believe in my cause. You're just a soldier."

"Then kill me," Michael hissed. "Finish this."

"Michael, please."

Michael leaned forward slightly, pushing the blade edge into his skin. "Do it. You've always been a coward. Sentimental."

"One more time," Lucifer says, face contorting with grief. "I'm going to ask you one more time. Will you abandon this pointless fight? Walk away, Michael, please."

Suddenly, before Michael could react, there was a _crack!,_ of lightning, and Raphael stood before them. He, too, looked desperate.

"Michael, take the deal," Raphael urged. "We can leave this behind. This is our way out!"

"Traitor," Michael snarled. He abruptly lashed out with his wings, sending Lucifer crashing into the asphalt several yards away, then leaped to his feet, clutching his lance. "I knew you were plotting behind my back. I do not tolerate insubordination." He shoved Raphael against a building, causing him to cry out. "You should have fallen with Lucifer!"

"No—!" Lucifer shouted.

Michael plunged his lance into Raphael's chest. Raphael arched his back and screamed, eyes lighting up with a brilliant white glow, blue electricity crackling around his head in a halo before the light went dark. Michael yanked out his bloodied weapon, and Raphael collapsed, dead.

"You _monster!"_ Lucifer shrieked, staggering to his feet. "YOU _KILLED_ HIM!"

"There is only one monster here," Michael snapped, "and it's you. Raphael deserved his fate."

With a wrenching cry of anguish, Lucifer lunged a Michael in reckless abandon, swinging his blade viciously. Michael deflected his blow, and then they were locked in combat once more.

This time, however, Lucifer was no longer thinking properly. Michael was.

The fight did not last long. Michael swept Lucifer off his feet and kicked him into the street with deadly accuracy. Lucifer stumbled a few feet and collapsed to his knees. Tears streaked down his face. As Michael advanced on him, he tipped back his head and let out a broken laugh.

"How far the mighty have fallen," Lucifer whispered. His face was covered in grime and blood, but his lips twisted into a terrifying grin. "Tell me, Michael; if it is you, and not I, who murdered our _innocent_ brother, then which one of us is the true monster?"

"You," Michael replied coldly. He raised his lance.

Lucifer didn't make any move to defend himself. He only watched Michael with an eerily calm gaze. "Will you strike me down in cold blood, brother? Knowing the sins you have committed today?"

"You are not my brother." And Michael drove the lance in right below Lucifer's chest. He let out a terrible gasp, fingers scrabbling at the hilt for purchase, ice blue eyes shining with grief and betrayal. Michael pushed the weapon in deeper, leering down at Lucifer with a furious scowl. "You are the _Devil_."

"Maybe so," Lucifer choked out. Blood dripped from his lips. "Maybe s—"

Michael jerked the lance upwards. Lucifer shrieked as his eyes burned white, hands gripping Michael's sleeve, pain tainting his features—

Everything went silent.

The real Lucifer flinched, watching Alternate Michael yank his lance out carelessly.

"I don't want to see any more," Raphael said, shaking his head, taking a step back. "No, this is... this can't..."

The scene before them melted into a blank white slate. Their father's voice was heavy and sad.

"One more to go."


	11. Chapter 11: Anemoia - Part 2

**Anemoia: Nostalgia for a time you've never known; the wistfulness of never truly knowing how events may have unfolded.**

* * *

_Click._

A new setting unfolded before their eyes. Black night sky. Dimly lit windows. A dismal church with a familiar Winchester inside.

"I don't want to see whatever terrible fates this universe has for us," Gabriel muttered, shaking his head. Raphael was still reeling from the shock of the last alternate ending. Michael wore a hollow, horrified expression. Lucifer's jaw tightened.

"You must," God said firmly. "Watch."

As they all turned their attention to the scene, Lucifer said, "hey, that's Lilith. This is the night I was released from the Cage."

"It is," God confirmed. "However, this is different."

Alternate Lilith was sprawled out on the steps of the altar as Sam Winchester and Ruby stepped inside. Sam lifted his hand and pinned her against the wall, eyes narrowed.

"I've been waiting for this," Sam told her quietly, "for a very long time."

"Then give me your best shot," Lilith replied, smirking.

Sam held out his hand. Lilith's skin lit up with orange fire, glowing white-hot, burning her up from the inside. She groaned in pain. In the distance, Dean's voice could be heard, yelling Sam's name from behind the doors desperately. Sam paid no attention. He kept going, continuing to destroy Lilith's essence with the power coursing through him, shredding her twisted soul and crushing it until she slumped over, dead.

Her blood began to streak across the ground, arcing in a strange way that it shouldn't be able to.

"What the hell?" Sam whispered.

"I can't believe it," Ruby said.

"Ruby, what's going on?"

"You did it. I mean, it was a little touch-and-go there for a while, but... you did it."

"W-What did I do?"

"You opened the door. And now he's free at last. He's free at last."

"No, no, Lilith, I stopped her. I killed her!"

"And it is written that the first demon shall be the last seal. And you bust her open. Now guess who's coming to dinner."

"Gotta admire her loyalty," Lucifer commented, smiling a bit.

"Oh my God," Sam breathed.

"Guess again." Ruby tilted her head up to look at him. "You don't even know how hard this was. All the demons out for my head. No one knew. I was the best of those sons of bitches! The most loyal! Not even Alastair knew! Only Lilith. Yeah, I'm sure you're a little angry right now, but I mean, come on, Sam! Even _you_ have to admit, I-I'm awesome!"

"You bitch," Sam hissed.

"Sam, listen to me," Ruby said firmly. "Whether you like it or not, you are Lucifer's true vessel, and to be bonded with your other half will be the most incredible experience of your life. Lucifer will save you. He'll save us all."

"Aw," Lucifer cooed. Gabriel elbowed him, scowling.

"Everything Azazel did and Lilith did just to get you here," Ruby said, urging Sam to listen. "And you would always be the only one. You are special, and Lucifer knows it. He's gonna repay you in ways that you can't even imagine. He'll be so grateful to you."

"He will?" Sam whispered. His resolve slipped.

"Yes, yes, Sam. Haven't you always felt empty? Like you were missing something? Lucifer _is_ that something. He is what you were missing."

"How do you know?"

"The same way I know that Dean has been missing something too, and Michael will fill the space in him. That's how it was written, and how it was always meant to be."

A long silence hung between them. Sam's expression softened. He stared down at the swirling blood on the floor, head tipping down in a slow nod. Ruby grinned. The banging on the door stopped. Sam turned to Ruby, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

"What do I have to do?" he said finally.

Ruby's smile widened. "Just open yourself up. Tell him 'yes'."

White light sparked in the center of the bloody rune, shooting upward in a single beacon of light that illuminated the room and made Ruby take a step back. Sam stared at it in dawning realization. His lips twitched into a contented smile. The room rumbled, Dean's shouting outside drowned out by the piercing noise emitted by the light. Gabriel impulsively took a step back.

The very earth split open, ancient locks shattering and bursting under the strain of Alternate Lucifer's grace, a blinding aura clawing its way out of the Cage. Ruby suddenly gave a pained gasp as her eyes burned white, her whole body trembling and vibrating as the celestial power shredded her twisted soul.

"Ouch," Lucifer said, as Ruby collapsed to the floor at Sam's feet.

Sam lifted his eyes to the light. Lips parted, expression awed, he whispered, "yes."

And the church exploded.

The floor uprooted itself and chunks of rock went flying through the air, burning meteorites of consecrated ground shooting miles away, stained glass windows shattering, holy crosses snapping and being crushed beneath the collapsing foundation.

Throughout it all, Sam stood unharmed as white light wrapped around him, the ringing noise fading to a dull whine, grace radiating under his skin and filling the other half of his soul.

Everything went still.

The church was reduced to a smoking crater, sirens wailing and people screaming in the distance. Alternate Lucifer knelt in the center, head bowed and fingers digging into the rubble. He slowly raised his head, breathing hard.

"Finally," Lucifer growled. He rocked back on his heels and rolled his head, slowly enough to hear each vertebrae pop. A vicious smile carving itself into his features, he fumbled with Sam's shirt for a moment before ripping a singed patch off of the shoulder.

Gabriel gasped.

Marring Alternate Lucifer's skin, glowing red and practically humming with evil, was the Mark of Cain.

"No," Lucifer whispered, stumbling back a step and bumping into Michael. On instinct, Michael reached out and steadied him. "No, there's no way, I would never... I..."

"This world is not like our own," God said quietly. "Sometimes our alternate selves make decisions that we could never fathom considering. For instance, the last world we visited. You two would not dare fight each other now." His gaze skipped from Lucifer to Michael. "But you saw what little changes can result in."

"I don't like where this is going," Raphael muttered.

"None of us do," Lucifer replied.

God waved his hand, and the scene melted into a new one.

A dimly lit street, the lamps flickering. Dean Winchester stood on the corner, his expression pained and an unlit match in one hand. He pressed his hands together and closed his eyes.

Moments later, several streetlamps blew out at once, showering the concrete in sparks. Dean flinched. The ground trembled. Then, inside a barely-noticeable ring of holy oil, Alternate Gabriel appeared. Beside Dean, Castiel blinked into view.

Dean struck the match and tossed it onto the holy oil, which exploded into a circle of flames.

Gabriel stared down at the holy oil, then at Dean, his expression unperturbed. "What, Winchester?"

"Archangel Gabriel?" Dean said. Gabriel nodded. "Listen close. You're going to help us, and-"

"Let me stop you right there." Gabriel held up a finger in a gesture of silence. "I can't help you get Sam back, nor do I want to. He's gone. Completely. He is _gone_, Dean. Lucifer has him and you're never getting him back." He turned his sharp gaze to Castiel. "I suggest you back off, little Seraph. You don't want to be known as the angel who sided against both Heaven and Hell."

"Sam can't be gone," Dean interjected. "He can't be. No, Lucifer tricked him, we can fix it."

"There is no stopping Lucifer."

"If you would stop being a coward and actually _try_-!"

The ground shuddered beneath their feet, the streetlamps groaning as an invisible force bent them in half. Gabriel's expression was dark. "I am not a coward, Dean Winchester. I know when to pick my battles, and I am telling you, this is not a fight you will win. Lucifer is different now. He cannot be persuaded. If he could be, I would've already tried."

Dean started to say something else, but Castiel put a hand on his shoulder.

"He's telling the truth," Castiel said quietly. "Regrettably. Dean, I think we should listen to him this time."

Gabriel crossed his arms, waiting for the verdict. Finally, Dean fished a flask out of his pocket and doused a section of the holy fire. Sighing slightly, Gabriel stepped out of the ring and regarded the pair. His face softened upon seeing Dean's anguish.

"I'm sorry," he told Dean. "I truly I am. I know what it's like to lose a brother."

And with that, he vanished into thin air. Castiel gripped Dean's shoulder as the hunter bowed his head in grief.

As the scene faded before them, another unfolded.

"The final battle," God said, startling them all with his solemn tone.

It was a dark night. Alternate Michael stood alone on the chosen battlefield, looking terribly forlorn. He had taken Dean Winchester as a vessel. A faint breeze rattled the trees. Suddenly, the whole clearing seemed to darken, as if the moon's rays had been muted. Michael shivered.

Behind Michael, Alternate Lucifer appeared.

"Brother," Michael said, masking his surprise with a greeting. He inclined his head slightly.

Lucifer only stared at him, expressionless. He narrowed his eyes. "No longer brothers, I'd say. After everything you've done."

"I did what was best for all of us. Please, don't make this more difficult than it is."

"Hm." Lucifer tipped his head to the side, as if listening to someone unseen, then straightened, his eyes cold. "As I see it, this won't be difficult in the slightest. I have support, but what do you have? Heaven? Why do they not fight alongside you?"

"I won't fight an unfair battle," Michael said in confusion. "This is between you and I, not Heaven."

"Well, perhaps _you_ won't fight an unfair battle." Lucifer lifted his hand, and a shiny black knife appeared in his palm. Once he'd wrapped his fingers around it, it lengthened and widened into a full-blown spear, tipped with a glinting golden point. "But I have no such qualms."

"What?"

Lucifer grinned, but it was more dangerous than amused. When he spoke, his tone was overlayed with dozens of other voices. "**Give me your best shot**."

The real Michael gave a soft gasp. "The Mark of Cain, it's..." He trailed off, looking up at Lucifer with wide eyes.

"Corrupted him," Lucifer finished.

Alternate Michael seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion. He lifted his own lance cautiously, warily. Lucifer spun his spear with three fingers.

"Lucifer?" Michael said hesitantly.

"**Not quite**." Lucifer laughed sharply, slamming the base of his spear into the ground. The ground writhed and began to froth beneath the spear. "**Something else, perhaps. Something... _darker_**."

"No. _No_."

"**This Mark of mine, it wears heavy, doesn't it? So exhausting, to be filled with heavenly grace when the void is so much more inviting. Lucifer's light was bright, yes, but it didn't take long for me to scrape away at it.**" Lucifer, or some twisted mockery of him, tapped the Mark of Cain casually. "**Take solace in knowing that your brother fought it, dear nephew**."

Michael staggered backward as the Darkness advanced, Her overwhelming presence smothering Lucifer's faint spark of grace. She pointed Her spear at Michael.

"Why are you doing this?" Michael cried, lifting his lance in a vain attempt to ward Her off. "Why Lucifer?"

"**He doubted his ability to win this fight. After so long in the dark, one understands it is one's best interest to succumb. I merely gave direction, but he is the one who invited me.**"

"No, he would never-"

The Darkness swept Her spear through the air in a swift movement, causing Michael to stumble and nearly trip over himself. She stalked closer to him, a cruel smile curving Her face. Her eyes darkened and were suddenly flooded with black, like a demon's. Smoke curled over Her skin, as if Her clothes were burning.

"**I may have tampered here and there**," She said flippantly, gesturing at her head. "**Lucifer resisted strongly at first, but I crept inside his mind and convinced him that I could help. And so, if I cannot be free of my cage altogether, I will wreak my vengeance through your brother.**"

"This wasn't how it was supposed to go!" Michael shouted.

"**Maybe it will be easier for you to fight me, both knowing you will lose and knowing you are not fighting your brother. Comfort yourself with the thought.**"

"I... I won't let you win. We defeated you once before."

The Darkness' expression twisted into a harsh scowl. Her voice briefly faded back into Lucifer's, or Sam's, making Michael's breathing hitch. "You will not do so again."

When She spoke again, Her voice was grating and low, resonating with ancient force and power.

"**T̴̹̓̌̚h̸͓̤̦͘e̸̗̾̿̿͠ ̶̢̿D̶̳͔̀̆̓͜ä̶̛̗́̍͗r̴̲̻̺͈̈́̿̏̌k̴̢̡̜̔̾̒͘ ̷̬̘͔̇͊͝a̶̬͔̦͔̓͊̀l̶̻̞͉͑w̸̟̖̖͖͐̿͊̕a̵̢̰̟͒̎̚͜y̸̞̩͚̯͐̃̅͋s̶̗̜̗̓͋̈́ ̵͎̥͐͛͝t̶̹͙͙̹̏͝r̷̹̓̓ï̶̠̱ű̴̢̫̺͛͠m̶̳͍̭͎͘p̵̲̦̥̽̽̀͋h̵͎̊̉͠ṡ̴̡̭̙̾͌**."

She flung Her arms wide. The earth began to shake, trees groaning and toppling over in the distance, far-off human screams reaching them. The sky boiled over with furious storm clouds. Lightning radiated through the storm, splitting and striking at random spots in stunning displays of white and red. The colors framed Her face, lining her body in a haze of rumbling power.

Michael picked himself up off the ground, snapped his lance out of existence, and vanished in a plume of fire. The Darkness scoffed at his disappearing act.

"You can't run forever, little prince," She called loudly, delighted at the prospect of a hunt.

God waved his hand. The scene melted into white.

"We can all guess how that ends," Gabriel muttered.

"Indeed." God gave a quiet-yet-heavy sigh. "This is, of course, the worst-case scenario. It's the most severe outcome."

"What happens?" Lucifer asked. After seeing what could've happened to him, he felt unsettled to his very core, as if the Mark was still seared into his grace. Off to the side, Michael must've been having the same experience.

"She hunted them down," God answered. "She started with Michael, then Raphael, then destroyed the entire earth in search of Gabriel. She flooded Heaven and killed every last angel. When it was all said and done, the world was a barren wasteland, and only Lucifer was left. Broken and scarred, he roamed the world, looking for any survivor, but he found none. In the end, he killed himself to be free of the loneliness, and the Darkness was released forever."

Silence reigned for a long moment.

Raphael made a soft, grief-stricken noise. "Why are you showing us this, Father? Why must you torment us with the worst versions of our world?"

"I needed you to understand. You have to know that if we don't try our hardest, we risk becoming this." Details of their pocket-Heaven began to leach back into their surroundings, the white office room folding in around them. "I don't mean to frighten or upset you. I just want you to know what could've happened, and why I am so grateful I intervened when I did."

Running his hands through his hair, Lucifer slung his arm around Gabriel's shoulders and said, in a tone too cheerful to be true, "well, with all that horrifying imagery in our heads, I think we all deserve some celebration."

"For what?" Michael scoffed.

"For living in the best version!" Lucifer exclaimed. "Someone snap up some alcohol, 'cause I feel like getting really drunk."

* * *

**"Of all the words of mice and men,**  
**The saddest are, 'it might have been'."**

**\- Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle**

**(also, sorry for the long wait, guys! I was super unmotivated and busy working on other projects, so I can't promise regular updates again, but at least some effort.)**


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